


Little Flowers of Eloquence

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two bad relationships, Felicity Smoak has accepted that she’s not physically attractive to men.  That doesn’t mean her life isn’t good, but her friends make her realize that something is missing.  Something that might be fixed if she gives a chance to a certain newly-back-from-the-dead ex-playboy . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stars from the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mel_Sanfo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Sanfo/gifts).



> This fic is for melsanfo, who gave me the original prompt and has been such an amazing friend to me over the past few months. This story is inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac and one of its movie adaptations, The Truth About Cats and Dogs. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Many thanks to equally awesome friends acheaptrickandacheesyoneline and andcreation for reading this over and cheerleading me along the way.

****_ My heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.  
_ Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

There once was a young woman of exceptional mind and beauty, yet she was only conscious of the former.  Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that she was only confident in her mind.  For this young woman failed to see what her appeal was, how her eyes the blue of the sea and her hair the color of the sun could bewitch any man if she but understood the physical appeal she possessed.  

This is not to say that the young woman’s excellent qualities, such as her brilliance and heart, her kindness and her strength, had been unremarked by members of the opposite sex.  Yet her lack of belief in her appearance’s pleasing nature limited these relationships and made her accept from her suitors behavior she would not have accepted from anyone else.  

This story is how this young woman learned to see herself through the eyes of someone who loved her, a woman who combined beauty and brains to become the goddess she was destined to be.  

XXX

“You’re listening to  _ Bits, Bytes and Bobs _ on Starling City’s KSTA.  I’m your host, Felicity Smoak, and when we come back from commercial, I’ll be taking your questions about technology.  No question is too stupid, so call 1-800-555-KSTA and remove at least one mystery from your life.  That’s after this message from our sponsors.”  

Pressing the buttons that would silence her mic and begin playing the commercials, Felicity then looked up and smiled at her producer.  “That was such a great idea, Sara, to cover new ways for families to stay connected beyond Facebook.  Especially with the holidays coming up soon.”  

Sara gave her a quick thumbs up, then went back to screening the incoming calls, picking the three or four calls Felicity would answer on air.  After working together for over two years, Sara knew what kind of questions would prompt the best answers from Felicity.  Even though when they had first started working together, Sara could work her phone and not much else tech-wise, lately her producer had been suggesting show ideas that really resonated with Felicity’s listeners.  

Felicity considered it just another way she had hit the jackpot.  Not only did she have a great job in the Applied Sciences Division of Queen Consolidated, she also moonlighted as the host of a very successful technology radio show.  She owned a cute little townhouse--admittedly on the edge of the Glades, but her neighborhood was full of character--and had a small, closely-knit group of friends.  She had everything a young woman of twenty-three should have.  

The screen of her phone lit up, indicating she had a new text message.  She had just enough time, so Felicity picked up her phone to see who the message was from.  And then she sighed when she saw it was from her mother.

_ my hairdresser’s son is moving 2 sTarling!  you remember johnny, right?  I gave him your #!  ;-P  XOXOXO _

While Felicity was perfectly content with her life, her mother thought it was a crime that her daughter wasn’t dating.  So even though she was in Las Vegas and Felicity was in Starling, Donna Smoak never failed to take any opportunity to throw men in her daughter’s path.  

Putting aside her phone, Felicity resolved to be polite to this Johnny if he did call her, but to turn him down just as politely.  Because she wasn’t interested in dating.  After what had happened with Cooper and Ray, it was clear she wasn't meant to have a great romance.  

Sara gave her the fifteen seconds sign, so Felicity resettled her headphones over her ears.  She tugged her cardigan closer to her body and then leaned into the mic.  

“Welcome back, listeners.  It’s time for my favorite part of the show: Your Qs, My As,” Felicity said, using her radio voice before she hit the button for the little musical intro for the segment.  As always, she had to restrain a giggle at ‘My As’, since her chest pretty much fit that description.  Not that anyone who was listening would know that, since this was radio.  And in spite of the urging of that TV producer,  _ Bits, Bytes and Bobs _ was going to stay a radio show.  The last thing Starling City needed was her face appearing in high-definition on their TV screens.  

“Let’s get started,” Felicity said.  “Sara, who’s first tonight?”

“We’ve got Alice and she’s looking for advice on Apple vs. Android,” Sara said, giving Felicity the tech equivalent of a softball question.  

But Felicity didn’t mind--she really loved talking to her listeners.  Not only was there a Q&A portion in every show, each month there was a show that was solely driven by listener suggestions and questions.  It let her give back to the audience, in a way that actually mattered, unlike silly public appearances or puff-piece articles in the  _ Starling City Examiner _ .  

Of course the radio station wanted her to do more publicity--she was their most successful host and they were always encouraging her to raise her profile, to be ambitious.  But Felicity was perfectly content with her current profile.  

“Thank you so much, Felicity--that makes it a lot clearer,” her caller said after Felicity had finished explaining the available options.

“You’re very welcome, Alice!  Good luck,” Felicity replied warmly.  “Sara, who’s next to enter Thunderdome?”

With a chuckle, Sara said, “I hope you’ve brushed up on your emojis for Oliver.”

What was her producer/friend up to?  Because there was definitely something in her voice,  Felicity thought, looking at Sara with a raised eyebrow.  Sara just gave her a sunny smile as Felicity hit the button to make the call live.  “Hi, Oliver.  I have to admit, I’m wondering if you’re a teenager or a senior citizen.”  

There was a pause, and then a quiet little huff of air.  “Neither, actually,” said a man with a rich, smooth voice.  “Just . . . just confused by the emojis that my sister uses in her text messages.”  

“She’s younger than you, I bet, Oliver?” Felicity asked, smiling a little.  

Another huff that must be this Oliver’s version of laughter and then he said, “Yes, she’s ten years younger than me.”  

“Makes sense.  So describe what the picture looks like and I’ll do my best,” Felicity said, taking out her own phone to help with decoding Oliver’s descriptions.

Surprisingly, she didn’t even need her phone, because he was able to precisely describe what his sister was sending him, showing a level of recall that impressed Felicity.  Or perhaps he was just looking at his phone, not unlike she had planned to do.  

Still, any man who called in because he wanted to improve his communication with his little sister would get his question answered by her.  But for some strange reason, she found herself saying, “Call in again anytime, Oliver, and let us know how it went.”  

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the surprise on Sara’s face, but Felicity did her best to ignore it while she waited for Oliver’s response.  

“Um . . . sure.  I mean . . . I’d like that.  Thank you.  Felicity.”  

“Great,” she said quickly, not wanting to think about how precisely he said her name.  How it sounded so nice in his voice.  “Let’s move on to our next caller.”  

When Sara didn’t say anything, Felicity shot her producer a look.  Before the dead air became a real problem, Felicity said, “Hey, Sara, who’s next?”

“Right!” Sara said, sounding flustered.  “This is Donny with a question about tablets.”  

Felicity answered that question, which took enough time to bring the show to a close.  “Great questions tonight!  I’d like to thank Alice, Oliver and Donny for calling in.  To everyone that’s listening, thank you for spending part of your night with Sara and me.  This was  _ Bits, Bytes and Bobs _ , and we’ll be back next week.  Good night.”  

Sara cued up the closing theme music while Felicity lifted her headphones off and flipped the switches to turn off the microphones.  She had barely done that before Sara had thrown open the door into the studio and dashed inside.  “Oh my God, Felicity, you  _ never  _ invite callers to call in again!  And of all the people to make that invite to . . .”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Felicity said, shuffling through her show notes.  “And what do you mean, ‘of all the people’?”

“Have you been living under a rock?  It was Oliver Queen!” Sara said, bouncing up and down on her feet.  “I’d know his voice anywhere, even after five years.”  

Blinking, Felicity stared at her friend.  “W-what?” she stuttered, not sure she had heard Sara correctly.  Not that she doubted Sara--after all, her sister Laurel was still known as the woman Oliver Queen had left behind when he had sailed away on his family’s yacht, only to die when the ship went down in a storm.  But he hadn’t really died--he had been rescued from some island in the North China Sea two months ago.  It had been front-page news in Starling City for a solid week, and even now, not more than two or three days went by without him appearing on TV or in the newspapers.  

Because Oliver Queen had a face for TV and giant billboards.  He was gorgeous, with the stubble and the shadowed eyes and the body that made jeans and a jacket look like high fashion.  Add in his story and was it any wonder that he was never out of the public eye, never far from the interest of everyone and anyone?

And he had called in to her little show?!?

“Why did you put him on the air?” Felicity wailed, her hands crushing her show notes.  “I can’t believe you did that without giving me a warning!”

“How could I?” Sara asked, frowning.  “And if he was calling in, doesn’t he deserve the same anonymity as anyone else?”  

With a grimace, Felicity dropped her notes on the desk and smoothed them out, buying herself some time to think.  Sara was right: there was no way for her to notify Felicity of the real identity of a caller.  And if Felicity had known who Oliver really was, she probably would have frozen up, not answered the question to the best of her ability.  And that was what anyone who called in deserved--what anyone who listened to her show deserved, really: her best.  

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, turning to face Sara.  “I was surprised and embarrassed, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”  

“Oh, Felicity,” Sara said, giving her a quick, tight hug.  “It’s okay.  But how exciting is this: Oliver Queen listens to your show!”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Felicity said, gathering up her papers and stuffing them into her bag.  “I mean, he listened tonight, but probably only because he wanted to get an answer for his question.”  

With a not-so-gentle shoulder check, Sara followed her out of the studio.  “You’re so awesome, Felicity.  Look, why don’t you come with me to Laurel’s?  We could get the scoop on Ollie from her.”  

“We’re going to ask your sister, Oliver Queen’s ex-or-maybe-not, according to all the gossip sites, about Oliver Queen?” Felicity asked, lifting her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Oh, they’re not dating.  Laurel’s crazy about Tommy,” Sara said, waving a hand in the air as she referenced the infamous Tommy Merlyn, best friend of Oliver Queen.  “And she’s still pissed at Ollie for how they left things before he got on the boat.”  

“Really?” Felicity asked distractedly, searching through her tote bag for her keys.  

Sara lifted up her phone, using the flashlight app to give Felicity some more light.  “It’s one of Laurel’s less attractive qualities: she holds a grudge like nobody’s business.”  

“Thanks.  And that’s a shame.  I mean, it’s understandable if she can’t forgive him, but with what he must have gone through, and how long ago it’s been, I’d try to forget, or at least move on,” Felicity rambled, finally finding her keys.  “Especially since she’s dating his best friend and that must be kinda awkward.”

“Mmmm,” Sara said--a very leading ‘Mmmm’.  

“Oh, don’t get like that, Sara,” Felicity said, looking at her friend.  “Don’t go getting ideas.  I’m really happy, I swear.  And besides, I’m just a tech nerd.  I mean, look at me,” she said, stepping back so Sara could take in the full effect of Felicity’s look: low ponytail, glasses, cardigan, pencil skirt, and panda bear flats.  “I’m not exactly in the same league as Laurel or any of the other women that Oliver Queen has dated.”  

Felicity paused and gave her head a shake.  “And why am I even thinking about this?” she said, turning and heading towards her car.  “Do you need a ride, Sara?”

“Nah, I’ve got my bike,” Sara said, gesturing to the sleek motorcycle parked near the front of the building.  “And you should be thinking about it, Felicity.  You’re gorgeous and it’s a shame that you’re burying yourself away behind your computers and your microphone.”

“Good night, Sara,” Felicity said firmly, not at all eager to have this same discussion again.  Her friend gave her a wave and climbed onto her bike as Felicity got into her beloved red Mini.  

Sara was a great friend.  She always thought the best of Felicity.  That was why she frequently complimented Felicity’s appearance and talked her up, even though she knew it was a sore subject for Felicity.  Although not really that sore--Felicity had accepted a long time ago that she just wasn’t very pretty.  

It had started with her mother, who was dynamic and flaunted her looks, enduring all kinds of pain in order to look good.  Her friends in high school and college had all been pretty, but they had been her friends because they were also smart and nice and fun to be around.  Even now, her small group of friends in Starling were all knockouts.  Sara with her mischievous blue eyes and toned body, Iris with her great outfits and perfect skin, and Caitlin with amazing hair and a tiny waist . . .  

And then there was Felicity.  It seemed that she always seemed to pick the ‘ugly’ option.  Glasses, flat shoes, a ponytail . . . they were comfortable and made her feel good, but they didn’t make her stand out.  And no one noticed the girl who didn’t stand out.  Her mother had chided her that ‘Boys seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses’, but Felicity liked her glasses.  She did splurge on mani-pedis, yes, and bright lipstick, but they also made her feel good and didn’t hurt.  And guys never noticed things like her fingernail color.    

She had no regrets about her life.  Especially not tonight, when she had her typical post-show ritual ahead of her: eating a bowl of mint chocolate chip, drinking a glass of wine, and continuing her rewatch of  _ Chuck _ .  

That was a good life, Felicity thought to herself.  One that didn’t require a push-up bra or a blowout or a man.  

XXX

After that show, Felicity did her best to put Oliver Queen out of her mind.  But that was easier said than done in Starling City.  Because suddenly, he seemed to be everywhere.  Showing up drunk at the dedication of the new Applied Sciences building named for his father, announcing he was starting a nightclub with Tommy Merlyn . . . it was like he was determined to be in her thoughts.  

Not that he had any idea what he was doing to her.  Unlike one of her best friends.  Because Sara was not letting this Oliver Queen thing die.  It started with texting Felicity a link to a TMZ article about the Queen-Merlyn nightclub, with the caption  _ you & me are there! _  Then it was mentioning Oliver’s call to Iris when the three of them met for brunch on Sunday.  Thankfully, Iris was more interested in talking about the vigilante running around the Glades than wanting to discuss Oliver Queen.  And then Sara tried to get Felicity to join her at some hot new salon, urging her to shake up her look.

Felicity did her best to ignore Sara’s meddling, because she knew her friend’s heart was in the right place.  But it lodged a little kernel of resentment inside her.  Because why couldn’t Sara understand that Felicity didn’t want a makeover or a boyfriend?  What was so wrong with her that it needed to be changed?  

And if she was trying to encourage Felicity to take a chance and start dating again . . . shouldn’t Sara be helping her get someone a little more attainable than Oliver Queen, for the love of Google?  Talk about setting your sights too high!

When she settled into her chair in the studio, ready for her next show, at least she knew that Sara would be professional when Felicity was on the air.  And she was excited about tonight’s show, since it was their annual ‘Buy This, Not That’ episode, where Felicity gave recommendations about what devices people should put under their Christmas trees or give for the last night of Hanukkah.  Listeners could also call in with their questions about tablets and phones and video game systems throughout the show.

They were nearing the end of another great show when Sara looked at Felicity with a little smirk on her face.  But Felicity could only guess the reason for that smirk when Sara didn’t introduce the call and left Felicity to greet the caller.  “Hi, this is Felicity.  Who is this and how can I help you?”

“Hi . . . it’s Oliver.  From last week.”  

Felicity nearly yelped, her hands gripping the arms of her spinny chair.  Somehow, her voice wasn’t affected, not giving away her reaction.  No, it  _ did  _ sound affected--she sounded a lot warmer than normal.  “Oliver, hi!  How is it going with your sister?”

“A lot better, thank you.  We’re communicating more than ever . . . although I had to ask her to stop using emojis if she wanted me to know what she was saying,” Oliver said, all gently-mocking humor and nice voice and oh, God.  

Straightening up in her chair, Felicity’s hands fluttered, one going for her glasses while the other touched her headphones.  “That--well, maybe you just need more practice.”  Swallowing, she tried to regain her composure.  “Thanks for that update.  Did you have a question tonight?  Maybe looking for a gift for your sister?”

“I do have a question--but not about a gift for my sister.  More, a gift . . . a gift for myself.  I was thinking about getting one of the new iPhones, but I’m worried about how durable it is.  My friend said that the screens break a lot?”  Oliver’s voice was a bit hesitant, Felicity thought.  Almost . . . shy.

And she would  _ not  _ find that adorable.

“It’s going to depend on your lifestyle, really.  Do you have good hands?  I mean--how are your reflexes, Oliver?”  Felicity felt her face go red and very purposefully did not look through the glass window towards Sara.  

“They’re pretty good,” he said.  “I don’t think I’m going to drop it a lot, but I’m still concerned.”

“There are a lot of great cases that can really take a licking and keep on ticking,” Felicity told him, wincing a little at using that metaphor.  “They also usually have a built-in second battery, so you’ll have more juice to keep talking and texting and using the Web.  And wow, I sound like a really bad commercial right now.”  

Oliver let out a soft, throaty chuckle.  “No, you sound fine.”  

“Thank Google,” she said, surprised to realize that she was smiling.  “Check out cases made by Otterbox, if you decide to go with the iPhone.  It’s a good phone, especially for anyone who feels like they’re all thumbs when it comes to a smartphone.”  

“Okay.  Thank you, Felicity.  And Merry Christmas.”

“I’m Jewish,” Felicity blurted out.  

There was a moment of silence, and then, surprising her yet again, Oliver said, “Happy Hanukkah, Felicity.”  

Now she looked at Sara.  Now she was staring at her friend.  It wasn’t often--or ever--that Felicity Smoak was at a loss for words, but she sure was right now.  

“This is a great time for us to take a commercial break, so you can hear about some products to consider for your holiday shopping,” Sara said, before slamming down on the button to play the next batch of commercials.  

It was too early for them to stop the show like this; they had just taken a commercial break.  But Felicity didn’t care, because . . .  _ what the hell was that? _

She had totally frozen up, something that had never happened to her, not even when she had first started broadcasting and she had been so incredibly nervous and certain the station would yank her off the air mid-show.  But this was a hundred times worse, because it was Oliver frakking Queen and she--she wasn’t interested in men!  Because they weren’t interested in her, and someone like Oliver Queen  _ certainly  _ wouldn’t be interested in her.  She worked for his family’s company and she was just a nerd and her idea of a good time was fuzzy socks and Netflix, not high heels and partying.  

“Felicity,” Sara said through the in-booth intercom, “you’ve got twenty seconds.  You need to get it together.  C’mon, honey, you can do this.”

Nodding, Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths.  She had to finish the show before she could freak out.  Not that there was anything to be freaking out about.  So what if Oliver Queen called in for a second week in a row?  And so what if he had a nice laugh and wished her a happy Hanukkah?

With all her resolve, Felicity shoved all those thoughts into the back of her mind and focused on her callers.  It took a lot of grit, but she managed it well enough that she didn’t think the audience noticed her mental dilemma.  

Then, as soon as the show was over, Sara threw open the door of the studio.  “Come on,” her friend said, pulling Felicity to her feet.  “You need a drink.”  

Somehow, Felicity didn’t think Sara was talking about a glass of wine.  But she had to agree with her friend: she could definitely use a drink.  

Sara took her keys and drove Felicity’s Mini to a bar in the Glades.  She was pretty sure they weren’t far from Sara’s place, so at least Sara would be able to get home easily enough.  And since Sara ordered them doubles of Patron, Felicity thought there was a good chance she would be sleeping on Sara’s couch tonight.

“Okay, Felicity, it’s time to talk turkey,” Sara said after they had each taken a swallow of tequila.  “I haven’t wanted to address it head-on, but . . . but I think it’s time, after what happened earlier.”  

Thanks to the liquor in her system and the time to think, Felicity felt like she was ready for this.  “I think you’re making a bit much of this, Sara.  I got a little flustered, because I was surprised.  Which does happen--remember that show with the guy asking about the apps with the best vibration because he was looking for something his girlfriend would like?”

“We promised never to mention that show,” Sara said, making a face.  Then she shook her head and pointed at Felicity.  “But this was different.  You got all googly-eyed over Oliver, and that did a number on your head and your whole ‘I’m perfectly happy even though I’m only half a person’ thing.”

Felicity had just lifted her glass for another sip, but at Sara’s words, she set down the tumbler with a thunk.  “What?” she asked, her voice very quiet.  

The woman Felicity considered one of her best friends gave her a look.  “You’re convinced you’re not attractive, that you’re not pretty, that no guy would be interested in you, and it’s bullshit, Felicity.  You’re beautiful and it’s time someone got it through that thick head of yours.”  

“I just don’t think my looks matter.  I’m good at my job, both of them, and I like being good at them.  I like wearing glasses and having complete power over my remote control,” Felicity said, lifting her chin.  “I don’t see why it matters so much to people how I want to live my life.”

“Because you’re not living!” Sara cried out, making a few heads turn in their direction.  “You’re just passing time.  You never take a real risk, you never really enjoy anything.  You just . . . settle.  It’s been like this ever since Cooper and Ray both broke your heart, in spite of being perfect for you on paper.  But that’s the thing--they were perfect on paper.  They were both smart nerds who you could talk nerd stuff with, but neither of them were perfect for you.  Neither of them acted like they even noticed what you looked like.  They didn’t deserve you, but somehow you got convinced that  _ you  _ didn’t deserve  _ them  _ and you gave up!”

It was all Felicity could do not to cry.  She looked down, taking in how her hands were wrapped tightly around her glass, how her nail polish was a bit chipped, how a neon sign advertising Crown Star Beer reflected in a puddle on the bar.

But hyperfocusing on those details didn’t make Sara’s words stop ringing in her head.  

“Is that really what you think of me?  And you say you’re my friend?” Felicity asked, turning to look at Sara as she pushed herself off her bar stool.  “You don’t know how much Cooper hurt me, but you were there for everything with Ray.  You saw how that breakup affected me.  And you’re accusing me of settling?  Of giving up?  I’m sorry I’m not as fearless as you are, Sara, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with putting myself first, instead of worrying about turning myself inside out to catch the eye of some man who only cares about my cleavage!”  

“Felicity, no, that’s not--”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Felicity interrupted, grabbing her purse.  “And I don’t have to stay for this.  I’m going home.”

And with that, she left the bar, striding towards her car with tears running down her cheeks.  She lifted up her glasses, swiping at the tears, as she tried to keep herself somewhat in control.  At least until she could get home.

Where she knew she was going to be eating ice cream right from the carton and drinking wine straight from the bottle, as she let out her sadness and disappointment and hurt.

XXX

The next week was long, sad, and painful for Felicity.  It was as bad as it had been when she had broken up with Cooper or Ray--but in some ways it was even worse.  Because not only had she lost a friend, there was a sense of betrayal.  Because it felt like Sara had stuck a knife in her, that she had only been friends with her because she pitied Felicity. 

And that didn’t feel good at all.

Sara tried texting and calling, but Felicity ignored all of her overtures.  Caitlin and Iris also tried to reach out, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it.  Because they were all bound to see her anger and hurt as being about more than what Sara said.  No, they would think she was lashing out because she didn’t want to face the harsh truth that Sara had dished out.  

Which was true, Felicity had to admit.  For all that she had said she was fine with her life, that she liked it, having one of her best friends tell her that she was settling . . . well, no one had ever put it so bluntly, so directly.  And considering that Sara  _ was  _ one of her best friends, that meant that Felicity had to consider if Sara was right.

That Felicity was settling.  That she felt like she didn’t deserve a relationship, that she didn’t deserve to be happy.  That she had given up on her looks and on herself.  

Had she?  Had her confidence been so wiped out by two bad relationships that she had let herself be scared into the shadows?  Had her hurt made her think she was the problem and not her bad boyfriends?

Her relationship with Cooper in college had ended badly, when he had stolen a piece of software from her and tried to use it for evil purposes.  When she had confronted him about his theft, about the hurt he was causing and that she could be blamed for, he had told her he had only started dating her because he knew how smart she was.  Because he hoped to get her help with his own programming efforts, but found it was easier to just steal from her.  

After that, it had taken her two years to be willing to date again.  But Ray Palmer had just seemed so  _ nice _ .  He was handsome in a square-jawed Superman kind of way, and she had certainly felt the pull of attraction towards him.  But the number of times she woke up in the middle of the night and discovered he had left her in his bed to go work on some project--or even worse, the handful of times he had stopped kissing her because he had gotten an idea that he just had to explore, right then and there.  Eventually, when Ray decided to move to Coast City to start his own company, Felicity had used the excuse of not wanting to leave Starling City and her friends in order to break up with him.  

And when Ray had left . . . Felicity had decided to focus on herself.  To enjoy her life, to not jump into another relationship.  She didn’t think that meant she was hiding in the shadows . . . but it had been over a year since she ended things with Ray and she hadn’t been on a date since.  Hadn’t accepted the few offers she had from men to get coffee or have drinks.  

But did that mean she had given up?  Felicity didn’t know.  She spent so much time thinking about it that by the one-week anniversary of her disastrous drink with Sara, she wasn’t any closer to figuring it out.  

The last text message from Sara had said unless she heard otherwise, she was assuming that Felicity didn’t want her there for the show.  Felicity had stared at the text for minutes, crafting several different responses, yet she hadn’t responded.  So that left Felicity to produce her show as well as host it.  The tech was simple enough, and she had done it before, but tonight she felt scatter-brained.  After she accidentally hung up on one caller and mistakenly played a commercial in the middle of another call, she had to throw in the towel.  

“I’m sorry, everyone.  I’m flying solo tonight, because . . . because a friend decided to make me look at some hard truths.  And I wasn’t ready, so I froze her out.  It was a pretty good example of cutting off my nose to spite my face,” Felicity said, then let out a quiet laugh.  “Which did my face no favors, let me tell you.  So I think I’m going to cue up one of our old shows, so you can hear how I sound when I’m on my game.”  

She paused, then closed her eyes as she spoke.  “This is the last show before the holidays, so I hope you’re getting to spend Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or the Solstice with someone you care about.  From everyone here at KSTA, I wish you a very happy holiday and a great New Year.”  

Tiredly, she hit the buttons to begin playing their holiday show from last year, then took off her headphones and leaned back in her chair.  Closing her eyes, she let herself admit that she missed Sara--missed all of her friends--too much to let this situation go on any longer.  Once she left the studio tonight, she was going to call each of them and ask them to come to her house tomorrow night.  And with a lot of wine, and probably some tears, she was going to ask her friends for their honest opinions.  

Sitting up and opening her eyes, she started scanning the board in order to leave everything ready for the next show.  She frowned when she noticed one of the phone lines blinking.  Who was calling in now?  

Rather than add disappointing this caller on top of all of her listeners, Felicity put her headphones back on and picked up the call.  “This is KSTA, how can I help you?”

“Felicity?”

“Oliver?” she yelped, banging her knee against the desk.  “What--why are you calling?”

“I heard you talking before you went to one of your old shows and . . . I wanted to find out if you were okay.”  Oliver sounded concerned, almost worried.  And that made Felicity bite her lip to hold back a squeal.  Because . . . because that was so nice of him, and so sweet, and she couldn’t remember the last time a man had done something like this for her.  

Wow, Sara really was right.  She had let herself think she wasn’t worth any attention from a man.  

“That . . . that’s really nice of you,” she said, pressing her headphones against her ears.  “Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” he said, and she thought he might be smiling.  Because you could hear when someone smiled when you talked to them on the phone.  “So you’re doing okay?”

“I’m--I’m getting there,” she said, doing her best to smile, too.  “I’m going to have to apologize to my friends for my behavior, and I’m probably going to end up crying a lot, but--but that’s not really a sign of someone who’s okay, so you can just pretend you didn’t hear that.”  

There was a moment of silence, then he let out that huff again.  “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear that.  It’s okay if you’re not okay.”  

“I know . . . but if you admit you’re not okay, then you have to do something, don’t you?” Felicity said quietly.

Oliver was silent again, then he spoke gently.  “That’s true.  And that’s not easy.”

Sighing softly, Felicity nodded.  “Yeah.”  

“You know . . . if I gave you my number, you could call me if you ever wanted some advice.  I know a little bit about having to deal with being not okay.”  

_ I know you do _ was on the tip of her tongue, but somehow Felicity managed to bite back the words.  Because it was more important to focus on Oliver giving her his number-- _ Oliver Queen _ giving her his number!

“I . . . I appreciate that.  You’ve been really easy to talk to and--and yes.  I’d like that,” Felicity said.  “I’m going to leave the studio now, and I have to call my friends and apologize and hope they’re willing to spend time with me, but . . . but maybe the night after tomorrow I could give you a call?  After I talk with them and come up with ways to actually be okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver said, definitely smiling again.  He gave her his number and then said, “Good luck with your friends, Felicity.  I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you.”  

“Thank you, Oliver.  Talk to you soon,” she said, unable to believe she was making a phone date with a man.  With Oliver Queen, no less.  

She was going to have so much to tell her friends.  And they were going to delight in saying ‘I told you so’ to her.  

But right now, she wasn’t really worrying about that.  

End, Chapter 1

 


	2. Drove Into This Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so thrilled by the wonderful reaction to the first chapter of this story. Especially by the people who said how much it meant to them for Felicity to struggle with self-image issues. This fic was very cathartic for me to write, so I’m very glad it’s a cathartic read for you.
> 
> The lovely bigdeesmallworld made a graphic for this fic--isn’t it gorgeous? Thank you, Dee!
> 
>  

 

_ Oh, don't take it so hard. I drove into this madness. Every woman needs a little madness in her life.  
_ Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

Sometimes, a decision to change is like an epiphany, like a great scientific discovery.  Newton being struck by the apple, Galileo and  _ e pur si muove _ , Alexander Fleming remarking ‘That’s funny’ when he saw the mold that would later be named penicillin.  These decisions are revelations, ones that set you on a new path full of the unknown, but also full of excitement.  

Other decisions are arrived at through careful reflection and thought.  They need much deliberation, searching the soul to find the proper course for yourself.  They are less dramatic, yet no less important.  For with measured, directed consideration, breakthroughs can be achieved.  

Yet in a few cases, it does not matter how a choice is made, but what comes after the decision.  How the changes that come are handled, how your emotions can affect the decisions you have made.  

When a major decision is made by a young woman with a fractured sense of self-worth, what happens?  What happens when a young man who is hiding all his truths decides not to hide from one person who is a voice at the end of a telephone?

XXX

When she called Sara, Felicity felt a strange sense of confidence.  As if no matter how bad things seemed, she would be able to fix this.  She could repair her friendship with Sara, she could examine how she had been living her life, and she could make changes that would make everything better.  

And that feeling intensified when Sara immediately answered her call.  “Felicity?  I listened to the show tonight and--and I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pushed so hard, I should have done everything differently--”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have just stormed off and then shut you out,” Felicity protested.  “I know you were coming from a good place, because you were worried for me, and I just took it entirely the wrong way.”  

“But it’s more my fault,” Sara insisted.  “I just--you’re amazing and I don’t know why you can’t see it, and I  _ want  _ you to see it, Felicity.  I want you to have it all.”

Felicity bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed.  “I feel the same way about you.  I’m so proud of what you’ve been doing with the show, and you’ve got so many friends, and I just wish Nyssa wasn’t on that long-term assignment in Tibet because you two are so good together . . .”

Sara let out a soft laugh.  “Okay, stop, or I’m going to cry.”  

Brushing aside a tear that had dropped onto her cheek, Felicity smiled a little.  “I’m already crying.”  

“You softie,” Sara teased.  “You’re all heart, Felicity Smoak, hidden under a lot of layers of practicality.  But it’s okay to let everyone see that heart of yours.”  

“I . . . that’s really the perfect opening for what I wanted to talk to you about, so thank you,” Felicity said, taking a moment to breathe.  “I--I was hoping you could come over to my place tomorrow night?  You and Iris and Caitlin.  I think, I mean, I could use your help to work on those things you told me last week, what you told me just now--I want your help, Sara.  Please?”

“Oh, God, Felicity, of course!  But only if you really want to change, if you  _ really  _ think you’re not happy with your life.  Because it’s up to you, it’s your life, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like I pitied you or anything.  I don’t, I really don’t.  You’re one of the most amazing women I know, and I’m so lucky you’re my friend,” Sara gushed.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.  Felicity ducked her head, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.  “I just . . . I have to consider that when one of my best friends tells me something about myself that she’s right.  And this whole week, I kept going round and round on this, and I don’t feel any closer to knowing what to do.  That’s why I need your help, and Caitlin’s and Iris’s.  So, starting tomorrow night . . . you guys can lay it on me and I’ll listen, even though it’s hard, and four heads are better than one, so--so I can figure out what to do.”  

“You can do this.  And I’ll help,” Sara said softly.  “I will be there tomorrow.  With wine and ice cream, because I know what you’ll need to process all this.”

Felicity laughed.  She laughed much harder than Sara’s words might have merited, but it just felt so good to laugh after this week.  And when Sara joined in, it felt even better.  

“You're right, I'm definitely going to need those,” Felicity said once she stopped laughing.

“Yeah,” Sara said.  “I think we all will!  I'll see you around seven?”

“That's perfect,” Felicity replied.  “Thank you, Sara.  I couldn’t do this without you.”

Sara let out a small noise of disagreement.  “You could, but I'm so glad you are asking for help.  I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Sara.”  Hanging up the phone, Felicity let out a breath.  The hardest call was over, and now she just had Caitlin and Iris.  But before she did that, she just wanted to . . . take a break?  Let her emotions settle, regain her control and make sense of everything.

She was standing at the edge of a diving board, gazing down at the shimmering water in a pool--a pool which she didn't know how deep it was.  She could dive in cleanly and smoothly, or do a belly flop, or discover that there was only six inches of water in the pool and be totally destroyed.  

But Felicity wouldn't know until she took the leap.  She had crept her toes over the diving board's edge, now she had to just go the rest of the way.  But she had her friends as lifeguards, at least.  And . . . she had spent too much time being fearful, spent too much time hiding.

It was time to take the plunge.

XXX

Lifting one of the bottles of wine that Sara had brought, Felicity asked, “Anyone else need a refill?”

All three of her friends raised their glasses--thus showing why they were her friends--and with a soft giggle, Felicity refilled all their glasses, then topped off her own.  Curling up in the corner of the couch, she sipped her wine and reviewed everything that had happened tonight.

Sara, Caitlin and Iris had all arrived soon after seven, each of them bringing wine, ice cream and chocolate to go with the pizzas Felicity had ordered.  Caitlin, being organized, took notes as they talked, sharing stories, opening up about their past experiences, and making sense of how the past influenced the present.  Instead of feeling attacked, as she unfortunately had during that initial conversation with Sara, Felicity felt comforted.  Like she wasn’t so alone, wasn’t so screwed up.  

After hearing her friends talk about Felicity’s good qualities, and thanks to Caitlin’s notes, she felt ready to get to work.  She nibbled on her lower lip, then took another sip of wine for courage.  “Okay, so . . . what do I do now?” Felicity asked them.  “How can I do things to get more confident?”

Her friends exchanged glances.  “Are you sure you want to get into this tonight, Felicity?” Caitlin asked, her voice gentle.  “You’ve dealt with a lot of emotions already . . . maybe you should take some time to adjust before you jump ahead.”  

“That’s true, I suppose, but . . . but I don’t want to lose steam, either, you know?” Felicity said, running a hand through her hair, which was hanging loose around her shoulders for once.  “I’m worried if I don’t set some goals, I won’t follow through.”  

“And there’s something to be said for having goals,” Iris said, who out of her three friends was perhaps as driven as Felicity was.   

“Exactly.  I want to make some plans so I don’t lose this head of steam,” Felicity said with a firm nod.  

Caitlin still looked worried, but Iris leaned forward.  “I think you should try online dating.”  

At the groans from the other three women, Iris held her hand up, grinning.  “I know, I know, but hear me out!  With how tech-savvy Felicity is, she could totally hack whatever service she signs up for--she could make sure she only gets good guys.”  

Everyone laughed, Iris included.  “That is crazy, Iris,” Sara said, before holding her hand up for a high five.  “It’s brilliant.  You should totally do that, Felicity.”  

Iris laughed as she high-fived Sara, then turned to Felicity.  “Don’t leave me hanging, Smoak.  So are you going to sign up for online dating?”  

“Not in a million years, West,” Felicity giggled as she returned the high-five.  “At least, I’m not agreeing to anything until I hear all your ideas.”  

“Enough with doing everything online,” Caitlin urged, tucking her legs underneath herself.  “You need face-to-face interactions.  Go to wine tastings, do speed-dating.  I could set you up with a few guys--I swear some of Ronnie’s friends are really nice,” she said, smiling as she brought her long-term boyfriend.  

“Could anyone top the meet-cute you and Ronnie had?” Sara asked with a grin.  

Caitlin made a face.  “Bumping heads so hard that I had to examine him for a concussion?  I wouldn’t exactly call it a meet-cute.”  

“I would,” Felicity, Iris and Sara chimed in, before they all broke down laughing.  For a moment, Caitlin maintained her grumpy face, then she started laughing, too.  

“My point still stands!” she said through her laughter.  “You need to get out there--literally.”  

“It’s a good point,” Felicity agreed.  Turning to Sara, she tried to prepare herself for what Sara would recommend.  Out of all of her friends, Sara was the wild card.  The one most likely to come up with some kind of off-the-wall suggestion, one that sounded crazy but, in retrospect, Sara’s ideas were usually the ones that worked out the best.    

Taking a large swallow of wine, Felicity gestured to Sara.  “Okay.  Hit me.  What do you think?”

Sara smiled slowly, her eyes dancing with mischief.  “Oh, it’s easy.  Super-simple.  You should give Oliver Queen your number the next time he calls in.”  

“Wait, hold the phone--” Iris said, while Caitlin choked on a sip of wine and Sara had to pound her on the back.

“ _ Oliver Queen?!? _ ” Caitlin spluttered weakly.  “How did you meet Oliver Queen?”

“He’s been calling in to the show?” Iris asked, leaning forward, her reporter’s instincts letting her grasp the real story.  

Shooting Sara a look, Felicity turned to Iris and Caitlin.  “Yes, Oliver Queen has been calling in.  It started a few weeks ago, and he’s called every show since then.  But he hasn’t told me who he is--Sara recognized his voice.”  

“Since I spent my middle school years hearing it from my sister’s room,” Sara said with a wrinkled nose.  

Caitlin had her thinky face on.  “Was he the guy who called in about his sister and the emojis?”

Felicity nodded.  “Yeah, that’s Oliver.”  And no, her voice did  _ not  _ get all soft when she said his name.  She took another swig of wine, because she still had to tell her friends what had happened after yesterday’s show.  

“Gosh, he was adorable,” Caitlin said.  “ _ That _ was Oliver Queen--the Oliver Queen who peed on a cop car?”

“I don’t think he’s like that anymore,” Felicity argued, feeling the need to defend him.  “I mean, that was five years ago . . .”

“And surviving on a deserted island will get the spoiled douche bag outta a guy real quick,” Iris pointed out.

Caitlin pursed her lips and nodded.  “Good points.  And he definitely sounded really nice in the show I listened to.” 

“You should have heard him the second time he called in--Felicity could barely talk!” Sara crowed, leaning in towards Iris and Caitlin.  “Talk about adorable.”

“Awwww!” Caitlin said, smiling at Felicity.  “You know, maybe Sara’s right--maybe you should give him your number.”  

“I agree.  That’s what you should do next,” Iris added.  

Felicity picked up the wine bottle and emptied it into her glass.  She knew her friends were watching with curiosity as she lifted her glass to her lips.  And right before she drank, she said quickly, “Actually, he gave me his number.”  

There was nothing but silence for a long, breathless moment, and then all three women exploded into a flurry of words and action.  Caitlin slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide, before letting out a squeak of surprise.  Iris blinked, then clapped her hands.  Similarly, Sara let out a loud whoop and threw her hands in the air.  “Felicity Smoak, you are a goddess among us mere mortals!” she cried out.  

“No, I’m not,” she argued, setting down her wine glass.  “You should have heard me--I was  _ so  _ awkward.”  

“How did it happen?” Iris asked, smiling widely.  Caitlin nodded, giving Felicity silent encouragement.  Apparently, Dr. Snow was still too surprised to be capable of speech.

She knew that feeling.  “Well, last night, the show was going awful, so I just--I apologized, halfway through, and started playing a tape of last year’s show.  I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t go on by myself.”  

Iris and Caitlin both looked sympathetic, and Sara put her hand on Felicity’s knee and gave it a squeeze.  Then she nodded eagerly.  “And then . . .?”

“And then . . . I noticed one of the phone lines was lit up, and it was Oliver.  He was calling because he had been listening and he wanted to know if I was okay,” Felicity explained, trying to sound casual about it.  But she knew her efforts were completely in vain.  Because all three of her friends--each one of them smart, savvy women--melted. 

“Awwww!”  “That is so frigging adorable.”  “How is he even real?”

Felicity plunked down her wine glass and grabbed a bag of chocolates, taking bites in-between words.  “I just . . . you know at some point I’m going to blurt out I know who he is.  And there has to be a reason he hasn’t told me what his last name is--unless he’s arrogant enough to think that of course I know who he is, and I don’t know if I want this to go any farther if he’s like that.”

“You’re overthinking,” Iris suggested.  “Maybe you should just take it one day at a time.  Not jump to the worst possible conclusion.”  

“And really, this could be the way you combine all of our suggestions,” Caitlin added.  “Phone calls are more personal than online interactions, but you’re going to really get to know Oliver.”  

Gnawing on her lower lip, Felicity looked at Sara.  Sara gave her a supportive smile.  “I think you should give this a chance.  After all, he’s showing he’s interested, and I think you are, so . . .”

To give herself time to think, she popped another chocolate into her mouth.  As she chewed, Felicity considered what her friends said.  It was true, talking on the phone felt less daunting than trying to meet people in bars or bookstores.  And she definitely felt like talking to Oliver would be easy.  So far, it had felt really . . . simple.  Natural.  

“I . . . I think I’m going to do it.”

Instantly, Felicity was wrapped up in three simultaneous hugs.  And as she laughed and hugged them back, she felt very grateful for her friends.  It had been tough to face up to her flaws, but they had made it less painful.  

And now she had a plan.  Tomorrow, she was going to call Oliver. 

XXX

Having a plan should have made her nerves easier to handle.  But the closer it got to the time she would call Oliver, the more her palms sweated, the more her fingers fidgeted, the more her knee bounced.  

She was a living embodiment of nervousness.  

Felicity closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.  This was just a phone call.  Like Iris said, she should take this one step at a time.  She could do this.  After all, she was really good at talking.  

That made her laugh a little.  And relaxed her enough to go ahead and hit the contact for Oliver in her phone.  

It rang a few times, then an out-of-breath voice answered.  “Hello?”

“Hi, Oliver.  It--this is Felicity?”  Why was she making her name into a question?

“Felicity,” he said, sounding even more breathless.  “Hi.  You called.”  

“Yeah . . . I am.  This is me, calling you,” she said, scrunching her eyes closed in embarrassment.  

He chuckled softly--not just one of those little huffs of air that could be mistaken for a laugh, but an actual-to-goodness  _ chuckle _ .  Which was something only old men should do, but Oliver made it work.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything--I waited until a bit later than I normally would call someone, because I didn’t want to take you away from anything.  And this is how you can tell I’m nervous, because I’m babbling,” Felicity finished in a rush.

“I’m nervous, too.  But I guess instead of babbling, I get quiet.  And I start second-guessing myself.”  

Tucking her legs underneath her, Felicity curled up in the corner of her couch.  Since she had managed to not wake up with a hangover this morning, and she needed a little liquid courage, she had poured herself a glass of wine to sip while she talked to Oliver.  She did just that before she replied.  “Being quiet would make this phone call different.” 

“Boring, you mean,” he corrected her, amusement in his voice.  “But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem tonight.”  

“Good,” Felicity said softly, smiling to herself.  “Because I’d like to know more about you.”  

There.  That was an opening for him to confess who he was.  Or really, to tell her anything about himself, other than that he had a sister and wasn’t very good with technology.  

“There’s not much to know,” he said, some fabric rustling in the background.  

“Getting comfortable?  And everyone says that--that there’s not much to know--but it’s not true.  Everyone has something to say about themselves, everyone is full of interesting little details and quirks.  That’s something I’ve learned with my show.”  

He chuckled again.  “Yes, I am getting comfortable.  And I can tell--that you care about your listeners, that you’re interested in them.”  

Felicity felt her cheeks go pink.  “Thank you.  I . . . well, I try to do that.”  

“I think you pull it off,” Oliver said, his voice so warm and soft that Felicity had to squirm a little.  

“So how did you become one of my listeners?” she asked quickly, trying to change the subject enough to get him to stop complimenting her.  Because something about the way he sounded made her feel like a schoolgirl.  

“Oh . . . well.  I want to say in advance, this wasn’t my idea--it was my best friend’s.  And I don’t want you to take it personally.”  

Lifting her wine glass, she took a tiny sip.  “You’re making me glad I have wine, Oliver.”  

She could hear him sigh.  “Okay.  I started listening to your show--and all the shows on KSTA--to help me sleep.”  

That was . . . well, she had wanted him to tell her something about himself.  But sometimes you found out things that were uncomfortable.  

But then, he said he was listening to just KSTA in general.  “So talk radio is a sleep aid for you?” she said, pleased to hear a teasing note in her voice.

“I was having a lot of problems sleeping.  My life is . . . well, I have a lot to keep my mind working.  Most nights, I would be physically tired, but I couldn’t stop thinking.”  He paused and let out a noise that sounded like a snort.  Since she knew who he was, she guessed he was amused at the idea of thinking too much.  

“A few weeks ago, my friend said I looked like crap.  When I told him I wasn’t sleeping, he suggested that I try listening to NPR.  I figured, what did I have to lose?  But on that first night, I was listening, and I was tired, but I wasn’t sleepy, you know?”

Felicity made a small noise of understanding, not really wanting to interrupt Oliver’s narrative.  Finding herself getting drawn into his story and wondering about him.  Was he having trouble sleeping because he had nightmares?  Given his previous five years, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did.  So as he had asked, she wasn’t taking it personally--anything that would let him get some sleep would be a good thing in her book.  

“And then your show started.  And something about your voice . . . it was so soothing,” Oliver said, sounding amazed.  “Within five minutes, my head started doing that nodding thing, when you’re on the verge of falling asleep?  And I was asleep in fifteen minutes and slept through the night.  Which hadn’t happened in a while, so . . . so thank you for that, even if it meant I missed out on your show.  I’m sorry for that.”  

“You don’t have to apologize, when you’ve given me such a compliment,” Felicity said, pulling one of her knees in against her chest.  “I mean, I’ve never had anyone say my voice was so soothing that it put them to sleep, but I guess you’ve managed to get enough sleep to stay up and listen to the whole show, so I’m glad on both counts.  Although my sponsors are happier about the second part of that.” 

Laughing, Oliver said, “I have been considering changing my brand of orange juice, thanks to the commercial for that all-natural brand that keeps airing during your show.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that--it tastes  _ awful _ ,” Felicity said, then winced.  “Please don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”  

“No way.  Now that you’ve told me, you’ve got to explain why it’s awful.  That’s my price for not telling the world Felicity Smoak doesn’t like healthy OJ.”  

She hadn’t expected Oliver to tease her.  She hadn’t expected to feel so charmed.  And compelled.  He was making her want to smile and duck her head and twirl her hair around a finger.  God, this was so ridiculous and so  _ fun _ .

“Okay, but in my defense, when you have to publicly support something that you don’t like, it’s hard,” Felicity pointed out.  

“I know something about that.  And you’re right, it is hard.  I usually try to avoid that as much as I can, but when I have to do it, I imagine it’s something I like better.”  

Quirking an eyebrow, Felicity felt the urge to tell him that she knew who he was.  Because . . . seriously?  Giving her a detail like that?  It was like he wanted her to know who he was.  But slipping it in during this discussion, someone less observant than her would have totally missed that.  

It was tempting to ask him, but . . . but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get that serious.  That felt like jumping to the worst possible outcome, as Iris had cautioned her against.  And if she brought it up . . . it meant this might be over.  And she liked talking to Oliver.  A lot.

“I don’t know if my imagination is that good, given how that stuff tastes.  But I choked it down without throwing up, so go me,” Felicity said lightly.  

“Well done,” Oliver said, that same teasing note in his voice.  Suddenly, he spoke again, his voice neutral.  “Can you hold on for a moment?”

“Sure,” Felicity said, leaning forward a little as she strained to hear what was happening on Oliver’s end of the phone.  Clearly Oliver had his hand over the mouthpiece, but she thought she heard a deep voice answering him.  He was probably talking to another man, she guessed.  

After a few moments, Oliver came back on the line.  “Felicity?  I’m sorry, I need to go.  But . . . but this was great.”  

Looking down, she nodded.  “Yeah, it was.”  

“Since you called me, it only seems fair for me to call you next.  I’ve got your number now, so . . .”  

Felicity couldn’t hold back the happy, giddy, goofy smile that she was feeling inside herself.  And she didn’t want to hold it back.  “I’d really like that, Oliver,” she said, turning her head to the side, almost hiding her face in her shoulder.  

“Then I’ll call you tomorrow,” Oliver said, his voice soft and warm and  _ very  _ happy-making.  

“Okay,” she replied, equally softly.  “Talk to you later, Oliver.”  She really liked saying his name.

“Good night, Felicity,” he said, so clearly smiling as he spoke that at the same time, Felicity felt warm from his voice and shivers from the way he said her name.

She pressed her thumb against the end call button, then let her phone drop onto the arm of the couch.  And then, Felicity Smoak, a mature adult woman, rolled over and buried her face in a pillow so she could let out a squeal of giddy pleasure.  

That had been the best phone call of her life.  It was so good that suddenly everything she thought she knew about men and relationships had been turned on its head.  

And she really couldn’t wait for him to call tomorrow.

XXX

Three weeks later, Felicity breezed into the KSTA studios, knowing that she was attracting some double-takes and stares.  After all, a woman with a big smile on her face and a bright pink coat was bound to merit attention, especially when everyone was grumbling about an unusual snowstorm and the post-holiday doldrums.  

But Felicity was flying high.  Neither cold nor snow, boring production meetings or supervisors who knew less than she did, would get her down.  

All thanks to Oliver.  

Since that first phone call, the day didn’t feel right if she didn’t talk to him.  Even if they didn’t talk, they usually they exchanged text messages throughout the day.  Oliver had picked up a lot about emojis in the last couple of weeks.

It was the phone calls, though, that mattered most.  Long and in-depth, they talked about anything and everything.  About green vs. black olives and cats vs. dogs, the different kinds of truth and all the ways good and evil could exist in the world and how hard it was to tell the difference between the two sides.

She had never had conversations like these.  Where she felt like she was getting to know someone down to his soul.  And he was getting to know her.  

Last week, he had finally confessed that he was Oliver Queen, and she had confessed that she knew.  

_ “You knew?  But--why didn’t you say anything?”  Oliver sounded downright flabbergasted.  “You’re not mad?” _

_ Felicity shrugged.  “You didn’t tell me because you weren’t ready.  And I had faith that you held back because of your past, not because you were doing some strange low-tech catfishing on me.  I was right, so . . . so no, I’m not mad.” _

_ There was a pause.  “I . . . I’ve wanted to tell you since that first phone call.  But I was worried that you would be upset that I lied to you.” _

_ “Why didn’t you tell me, then?” _

_ She sensed that Oliver was gathering his thoughts.  Weighing his words.  Which was something she liked about him: he never said anything he didn’t mean.   _

_ “Being Oliver Queen . . . there’s so many expectations for me.  That doesn’t excuse me keeping the truth from you, but since I’ve come back, seeing how people are just waiting for me to be the same Ollie Queen as before--I didn’t want to be like that with you.  Add in how I’ve spent the last five years and . . . you don’t know how many days there are when I want to be anyone but me.” _

_ Hearing the sadness in his voice, the barely-concealed self-loathing . . . it made Felicity’s heart go out to him.  Because how many times had she wished to be anyone but herself? _

With that revelation, their relationship had become even more intense.  It was like with that secret gone, they could connect in a new way.  Not that there weren’t still secrets between them--Oliver didn’t know what she looked like, she hadn’t told him that she worked with someone who once knew him, and then there was the way Oliver sometimes got off the phone quickly, making the worst excuses for why he had to end the call.  Spilling a coffee on his laptop?  Needing to go to a scavenger hunt?

But Felicity was willing to be patient.  To let Oliver reveal his secrets in his own time, in the hopes that when he discovered the truth about her, he would be understanding.  That he would understand why she had taken her time to tell him everything about herself.  That once he met her and knew what she looked like, he might still like her.  

On that front, her hopes were getting out of control.  Especially after last night.  

_ Oliver’s voice got muffled and Felicity couldn’t help asking, “What’s going on?” _

_ “I was just taking off my shirt.”   _

_ That made Felicity sit up on her bed.  “Wait, so you’re shirtless, right now?” _

_ “Yeah--I got something on my shirt and didn’t realize it until now.”  Oliver paused.  “Does it bother you, knowing that I’m shirtless?” _

_ How to answer that?  Because she knew what Oliver Queen looked like, and that was when he was dressed.  She had a very vivid imagination, so she was currently very interested in imagining what he looked like without his shirt.  “Um . . . I wouldn’t say ‘bothered’.” _

_ He didn’t say anything and then he let out a soft laugh.  A soft, knowing,  _ **_seductive_ ** _ laugh.  Felicity closed her eyes and pressed her legs together.  “Felicity.  You’re imagining me shirtless.”   _

_ “I plead the fifth,” she blurted out. _

_ “Which means you are.  It’s really not fair--you know what I look like, but I don’t know what you look like,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone. _

_ “I’m sure my imagination isn’t good enough to match the real thing,” Felicity said, blushing hard.  These were the kinds of lines her mother would give a guy, the kind of things she had overheard other women telling men at the bars and clubs her friends would drag her to.   _

_ And when he didn’t say anything, Felicity wondered if she had gone too far.  True, they had gotten a bit more flirty during their phone calls, but this was taking a big leap forward, and what if he-- _

_ “Felicity.  There’s a way we could balance this out.”   _

_ There was something in his voice that made that warm, liquid feeling in her middle grow even warmer and wetter.  His reputation might have been built on his actions before the island, but clearly, it was like riding a bike.  And he was good enough that he could turn on the playboy charm through the phone.   _

_ “H-how?” she asked, knowing she had already lost due to the tremble in her voice.   _

_ “Instead of imagining me shirtless . . . imagine that I’m touching your neck.”  His voice was low, dripping with honey, and Felicity breathed out slowly.  Knowing where this was going and wanting it to go there.  And not caring at all, in this moment, that she wasn’t nearly attractive enough, wasn’t nearly interesting enough, for a man like him.  _

_ “Okay,” she said breathily.  She delicately brushed her fingertips against the side of her neck, closing her eyes. _

_ She could hear his breath catch.  “Are you . . . ?” he asked softly, sounding amazed.   _

_ “Yeah,” she told him, still stroking her skin.  “Keep going, Oliver.  What should I do next?”   _

_ There was silence, broken only by their breathing.  And then Oliver audibly swallowed.  “Let--let your hand go down the side of your neck and touch your collar bones.  Stroke them, slowly.”   _

_ Doing as he said, Felicity couldn’t help a soft hum from escaping her lips.  “That feels good,” she whispered, the words slipping out.   _

_ “Does it?” Oliver asked just as quietly.   _

_ “Uh-huh,” she replied, licking her lips.   _

_ “It’s just the start, Felicity,” he told her, making her smile with anticipation.  “But if you want to stop--” _

_ That made her open her eyes.  “Do you want to stop?”   _

_ Oliver let out a quiet huff.  “You do not know how much I don’t want to stop.  But--” _

_ “I’ll tell you if I want to stop.  Just like you’d tell me if you want to stop.  Because--because you should touch your chest.”   _

**_Where_ ** _ was she getting all this courage?  Felicity wasn’t sure.  She had never done this before--never touched her body while talking to a man.  It felt so seductive and a little dirty, but also . . . kind of innocent?   _

_ All she knew was, the coil of tension inside her, the one that was always there when she talked to Oliver, was too tense for her to want to stop just yet.   _

_ And then Oliver said, “I--I’m touching my chest.” _

_ She let her fingers trace down from her collarbones, down into the valley between her breasts.  “You must feel so firm.  Nothing s-soft like what I’m feeling,” she said, stumbling a little as she traced the lower curve of her breast through her shirt.   _

_ He breathed out something that sounded like a moan.  “Felicity . . .”   _

_ “Oliver,” she panted.  “Okay, I’m taking my shirt off.”   _

_ Dropping the phone on her bed and hitting the speaker button, Felicity sat up and pulled her tank top up and over her head.  She heard Oliver chuckle as he put his phone on speaker, too.  “Hands-free, huh?  Good.  Put both your hands on your breasts, Felicity.” _

“Felicity?  Felicity?  Felicity!”

With a gasp, Felicity came out of her daydream, nearly dropping her coffee cup.  “What?  Huh?”  Blinking, she realized Sara was standing in front of her, her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.  “Sara.  Hi.”  

“Wow, you were in la la land,” Sara said, smirking wider.  “Lost in your thoughts?  Or perhaps memories?”  

Her face flushed at Sara’s innuendo, but Felicity just hiked her bag up on her shoulder and headed towards the elevator.  “Sorry, just thinking about tonight’s show.

“Mmm, wondering if Oliver’s going to call in?  You know that other callers keep asking what’s going on with you two.  Especially when he revealed he’s in Starling City, too . . .”  It shouldn’t be possible, but Sara’s smirk kept growing and growing.  

“Sara . . .” Felicity said, sighing a little as she glanced around the lobby, making sure no one was eavesdropping.  

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a very familiar face.  One that she had seen on the Google Alert for Oliver Queen that arrived in her inbox every morning.

“Oh, frak,” she breathed out.  

“Felicity?” Sara asked, sounding concerned as her smirk vanished.  “What is it?”

“Oliver!  Oliver’s here!” she whisper-yelped.  “He’s just outside, and he’s--after last night, I should have known he would want to meet me, and I--oh, God, I’m wearing panda flats,” Felicity said, after looking down at her feet.  

Sara reached out and took Felicity by the shoulders.  “Felicity, he’s not going to care about what shoes you’re wearing.  The way he sounds when he talks to you, the way you’ve been acting the last few weeks--what you look like, your insecurities, they won’t change how he thinks about you.  Felicity, the guy is--”

Thankfully, Oliver got held up outside by a phone call, walking around to stay warm amid the slushy snow that was falling.  Felicity felt her heart pound at seeing how gorgeous he looked, in a dark navy coat and his cheeks flushed from the cold temperatures.  

And here she was, in a faded blouse and a boring black skirt, wearing panda flats and her childish pink coat.  Compared to Sara, in tight black pants, a red top and a leather jacket, Felicity felt like the least cool person in the world.  

If Oliver walked in and saw her--the real her--he would be disappointed.  And Felicity couldn’t do that to him.  

“Be me--pretend to be me, please?” Felicity asked, looking at Sara.  Begging, pleading for her friend to do this, so Oliver would not be disappointed.  

End, Chapter 2

 


	3. The Lips for the Ear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter got a _bit_ of a reaction from everyone. I hope my solution to that cliffhanger is satisfactory! Thank you to everyone for reading and let’s not delay any longer . . .

 

_ A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.  
_ Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

How often have we acted in a way contrary to our best interests--contrary to our very desires?  For our minds tell us: those who receive all that they want do so at the mercy of the gods.  And if we had it all, something was bound to go wrong.  So wrong that the aftermath would crush us.  

So for our young woman, she calls upon her friend to help her, even though it will not be any help to our heroine.  In fact, it will make her life messily unhappy.  Yet at least it is a tragedy of her own making, a way for her to be in control and in charge of her pain, instead of risking being the one in pain without any control.  

Understandable, perhaps.  Yet still difficult to watch when it unfolds.  Imagine how it would be living it.  Both for our young woman and for her young man. 

XXX

Sara stared at Felicity.  “Be you?  Felicity, what are you saying?”  

“Just for today--I’m not ready to meet him yet--Sara, please, I’m begging you,” Felicity said, her hands clasped together, almost like she was praying.  “Please, he’ll be used to your voice from the show, he’ll be able to rationalize any differences he might hear--”

“You do remember who his ex-girlfriend is, right?  He’ll know who I am the minute he sees me,” Sara argued.  

Felicity frowned, then pointed at her friend as she remembered something Sara had told her once.  “Didn’t you tell me that you went to boarding school for your last two years of high school?  Which means it’s been more than five years since he’s seen you--he won’t recognize you.”  

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Sara grumbled.  “All right, all right, I’ll do it--but just today, you hear me?  After this, you have to tell Oliver the truth and set up a real date.  And I’m going to get Iris and Caitlin to back me up on this.”  

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll do it,” Felicity promised--willing to promise anything at this point if it would save her from facing the truth at this moment.  The truth that Oliver wouldn’t be nearly so interested when he saw the real Felicity Smoak.  

Sara sighed and shook out her hair.  “Okay, let’s get this over with.  He’s coming.”  

And he was: he strode through the doors and walked across the lobby, his eyes looking around in a measuring, observant way.  When he saw Sara and Felicity, standing in front of the elevator, he gave them a polite smile.  “Hi, excuse me--I’m looking for the KSTA studios?”

“Oliver?” Sara asked, her eyes going wide and her lips parting.  “Oliver Queen?”

He nodded, that polite smile growing stiff, making Felicity remember all the times he had talked about expectations, about having to be Oliver Queen and not always liking it.  

“It’s me!  Felicity!” Sara said, smiling brightly at him.  And then she threw her arms around him in a hug.  

Felicity bit her lip, feeling uncomfortable just watching this.  Because it was  _ awkward _ .  Oliver’s arms were hanging at his sides, clearly stunned at having “Felicity” hugging him.  But after a moment, he returned the hug and then took a step back, his eyes roaming over Sara’s face.  “Felicity?” he asked, sounding hopeful yet oh-so-slightly disbelieving.  

“Hi,” Sara said, putting some extra bounce in her voice, clearly trying to be Felicity.  “I can’t believe you just showed up here!”  

Oliver smiled--a smile that she would have dubbed shy on anyone else--and ducked his head a little.  “I know . . . um, I probably should have warned you first, but--but I just had a really crappy day, and suddenly I got this idea to come here and meet you, and it made everything better.”  He paused, the smile fading a little.  “I hope that doesn’t sound too corny, but--it’s the truth, Felicity.  I can leave if you’re not comfortable . . .”  

“No, don’t go,” Sara insisted.  “Would you like to come see the studio before the show?”  

“I wouldn’t want to be in the way . . . ” Oliver said, his eyes flicking to Felicity for the first time.  And then he frowned and looked back at Felicity, taking a closer look at her.  

Oh, frak.  Oh,  _ frak _ .   _ Oh, frak _ .  This--Oliver looking at her, his eyes so blue, like lasers that were piercing her soul--she felt like she was going to be sick.  How could she do this?  How could she lie to him like this?  There was withholding the truth, like he had done, and then there was out-and-out lying.  And that was what she was doing.  

“This is Sara.  You know, from the show,” Sara said, gesturing to Felicity.  “Sara, this is Oliver.”  

It was a toss-up what she wanted to do more: glare at Sara for introducing her to Oliver or facepalm at how ridiculous this situation was getting.  Which was probably why Sara had introduced her to Oliver--to show Felicity how bad this idea was.  But it was too late now to back out, especially since they had to get to the studio for tonight’s show.

So she did her best to act like Sara.  She held her hand out to Oliver and gave him a smile.  “Nice to meet you.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand and shook it slowly.  Felicity pressed her lips together at the tingles that ran up her arm from their hands touching.  “It’s nice to meet you, too.  Felicity talks a lot about you,” Oliver said slowly, not letting go of her hand.  

“We’re not just coworkers, we’re friends,” Felicity replied, smiling a bit brighter.  “She’s been a lifesaver.”  

Turning his head--and still holding her hand--Oliver looked at Sara.  “She is,” he said softly, something in his voice making Felicity’s stomach flip.  

She yanked her hand out of his grip and looked at Sara.  “I’ll just go upstairs and start getting everything ready for the show, if you want to give Oliver a tour,” she said quickly, jabbing her finger against the button for the elevator.  When the doors didn’t immediately open, Felicity smiled tightly at both of them.  “Guess I’m going to take the stairs.  See you later.”  

And with that, Felicity turned on her heel and practically ran for the door to the stairwell.  Ran and cursed herself with every step.   

Why had she been so foolish?  Why had she put Sara in such a position--why had she refused to be herself, why had she ruined her first meeting with Oliver?  They would never get that back again, and when he had admitted that thinking of seeing her had made a bad day better . . . 

What was  _ wrong  _ with her?  

Once she was inside the stairwell, Felicity slumped down on one of the steps.  She took her glasses off, dropping them in her lap as she rubbed her fingers against her eyes.  

Felicity didn’t know if she had ever been so ashamed of herself.  Not to mention confused.  Because . . . she knew Oliver had feelings for her.  Just like she had feelings for him.  Over the last few weeks, she had been growing more confident, more sure of herself.  And then, he showed up today and just set her world spinning off its axis.  It was a split-second decision: she wasn’t ready to meet him.  Maybe she should be mad at him for just showing up like this, but then . . . how was he to know?  She had never told him why their relationship had been carried out over the phone, sight unseen.  She had never confessed her insecurities to him.  

This was a mess of her own making.  So it was up to her to fix it.  Even though it would be the hardest, most difficult, most challenging prospect she had ever faced.

But she would do it.  For Oliver’s sake and for her own.  And because deep down, she needed to know if what they had between them--all the phone calls, all the text messages, all the things they knew about each other--was real, even if it happened without ever laying eyes on each other.

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths.  She had to get up to the studio and get ready for tonight’s show.  But after that . . . she would need to call Oliver.  

XXX

She might be more nervous about making this phone call than she was the first time she called Oliver.  But then, so much more was riding on this call.  

Sara had made sure to tell their friends about Felicity’s actions that afternoon, and Iris and Caitlin had both reached out to her.  Iris was emphatically disappointed in her while Caitlin was gently worried.  But Felicity had done her best to reassure each of them that she knew what a mistake she had made--a mistake she would be fixing as soon as she could.  She had reiterated that with Sara as well, who had eyed her before nodding and letting it go.  

Tonight’s show had been rough, but hopefully the callers hadn’t noticed much.  Admittedly, she had been rattled by how much she wanted to know what Sara had talked to Oliver about.  She had tried to eavesdrop--without looking like she was trying to listen--as Sara gave Oliver a tour of the studio, but multi-tasking like that meant the studio didn’t get set up right and she didn’t really know what they had talked about.  And afterwards, once Sara had told Oliver that having him there would make her too nervous and he had left, Sara had clammed up.

“You put yourself in this crazy position--it’s up to you to get yourself out of it.  If I tell you what happened, you’d be able to wiggle your way out of that date,” Sara had argued.

Which . . . Felicity had to admit was true.  She  _ would  _ try to put off meeting Oliver.  At least, the old Felicity would have--the old Felicity already had, by only interacting with Oliver through the phone and then coming up with that stupid lie.  But that awful feeling of watching Sara pretending to be her . . . Felicity knew that she deserved to know what Oliver thought of her.  Deserved to know if the spark she had sensed between them really existed and could last once he knew what she looked like, once he saw her in person and could judge if she held any appeal for him.  

It was a sign of how far she had come, Felicity supposed.  That she was willing to demand what she thought she deserved.  She just hoped it wouldn’t blow up in her face--even more than it was likely to do so, given what she had done.  

Taking a breath, Felicity picked up the phone and hit the contact for Oliver.  The phone rang a few times, each buzz through the earpiece feeling like the chiming of a clock, telling her she was too late, too late, too late--

“Hey.”  

The warmth and softness in Oliver’s voice, the way he made a simple word like “Hey” speak volumes . . . Felicity felt the butterflies in her stomach grow teeth and start chomping on her intestines. 

“Hi,” she said, gripping the phone.

A long silence unspooled between them.  Felicity wanted to tell him the truth, but she didn’t know how to start.  And given that they had “met” earlier tonight, small talk seemed like a step backwards.  

“So . . . was it a mistake, just showing up today?”  

Oliver’s question made her swallow.  It was the perfect opening.  So this was it.  The moment she would confess.  

“Um . . .” she replied, her voice trailing off.  

She heard him sigh.  “I knew as soon as I saw you.  It just felt . . . off.”  

“Yeah?” she asked.  Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “How did it feel off?”

As always, she could count on Oliver to measure his words, to weigh his answer.  The trade-off for his honest, thought-out reply, though, was the agony of waiting.  

“It’s hard to put my finger on it,” he said after a moment.  “But you . . . your voice sounded different.  And how I expected you to act--although I’m the last person to hold someone to my expectations of them,” he said quickly.  “But--yes, it felt off.  I just chalked it up to me surprising you.”  

“You definitely surprised me,” Felicity said, laughing a little to cut the tension.  “So much that, um . . .”

Oh, God.  She had to do this.  Oliver knew something was up, that something hadn’t gone right tonight.  He was more right than he knew.  And at this point, and with how she knew him, she could only guess what his next step would be: blaming himself.  And while yes, just showing up like that was a bad idea, she didn’t want him to think that this was a mistake.  

The last thing she wanted was for him to think they were a mistake.  

“Felicity?”

His prodding snapped her back out of her head.  “I have something to tell you.  Something that might--something that  _ will _ \--change things.  And I’m scared,” Felicity blurted before biting her lower lip.  “And I guess you felt the same way before you told me who you were, so you’ll be sympathetic, I hope, but--but this is big, Oliver.”  

She could hear him breathing on the other end of the phone.  Taking that in, probably getting nervous now.  

“Then why don’t you tell me in person?”

“In person?” she gasped.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I mean, if you tell me in person, in public . . . there’s only so mad I can get, right?  Not that I’m saying I will get mad, but it might be reassuring for you.”

Blowing out a breath, Felicity shook her head.  “You are being really too nice about all this, Oliver--are you sure?”  

“I’m sure,” he said softly.  Firmly.  “If nothing else, this puts us back on the same level, you know?”

It was all she could do not to scoff.  Because there was no way they were on the same level.  Not physically, and she was starting to think so about their emotional levels.  Oliver was four years older than her, but his experiences made him seem so much older and wiser than her right now.  But he was right that meeting in person might make what she had to say go down easier.  At the very least, he would immediately realize the truth:  that she was Felicity, not Sara.  

And if he didn’t storm off, then . . . well, they would see how things went.  

“Okay,” she said, taking a breath.  “Where and when?”  

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked.  “I think I know just the place, thanks to my bodyguard.”  

For the first time all night, Felicity smiled.  “Oh, yeah?  From what you’ve told me about Mr. Diggle, I can’t see us going to some fancy restaurant or trendy nightspot, then.”  

Oliver chuckled, a sound she loved.  “No . . . but that wouldn’t fit us, I think.”  

_ Us _ .  She liked the sound of that.  

“So do I.”  

Oh, frak, she had said that out loud.  And Oliver--sounded happy.  To be part of an us.  

She was in so much trouble.  

XXX

Smoothing her hands down the skirt of her purple dress, Felicity took a deep breath.  This dress was one that she had bought two weeks ago, on a shopping trip with Iris.  Her friend had encouraged Felicity to buy it, saying it made her look gorgeous.  Felicity hadn’t been so sure, worried about the cut-out over her cleavage, but . . . but it seemed perfect for a date.  Which she was pretty sure was what tonight was.  And even though she felt a little nervous in this dress, she also felt confident.  Like she was the kind of woman her friends told her she was.  Like she was the kind of woman Oliver would be interested in.  

And that was such a rare feeling, it seemed like a sign.  

Oliver had wanted to pick her up, but Felicity had asked if they could start their date on neutral ground, so to speak, by meeting at the restaurant.  But when he told her they were going to the Glades, she hadn’t been so sure about where he was taking her for dinner.  And then Oliver had suggested having his bodyguard pick her up.  

“You’re sure he wouldn’t mind?” Felicity had asked.  

Once again, Oliver had chuckled.  “Actually, I think he’s dying to meet you, with everything I’ve said about you.”  

That made those carnivorous butterflies come back, but Felicity had agreed.  So now she was waiting for Mr. Diggle to arrive and take her to the restaurant where she would be meeting Oliver.  

Promptly at six-thirty, a knock on her door echoed through her apartment.  With one last smoothing of her dress, Felicity opened the door.  An imposing man stood there--a man who looked very much like a bodyguard.  

“Ms. Smoak?  I'm John Diggle,” he said, his voice smooth and even.  But there was something in his eyes, a warmth and friendliness, that instantly put Felicity at ease.

“Hi.  Yes, that's me--I mean, I'm Felicity,” she said, doing her best to smile.  “Let me just get my coat and bag.”

“No hurry, Ms. Smoak.  At least not for me.  Mr. Queen, on the other hand . . .”

Felicity looked at him as she pulled on her coat.  “Are you trying to say without saying that Oliver's nervous about tonight?”

Mr. Diggle smiled, transforming his stern face into an expression that matched his eyes.  But he didn't say anything else, which made Felicity feel both confident and nervous.

The drive to the Glades in Oliver’s sumptuous town car was silent other than the quiet news coming from the radio: sports scores, the latest vigilante sighting, and other stories about Starling City.  Left alone with her thoughts, Felicity went through some text messages on her phone.  Words of encouragement and support and love from Caitlin, Iris and Sara, and then some of her favorite texts from Oliver.  Reminding herself that there was something between her and Oliver, something that had already survived the reveal of Oliver's identity.

When Mr. Diggle drew the car to a stop, he was out of the car and opening the door for her before Felicity could tell him it wasn't necessary.  And then she saw where they were.

“Big Belly Burger?” she asked Mr. Diggle, her voice incredulous.  “I love this place.”

Mr. Diggle smiled again.  “So does Mr. Queen, after I introduced him to it.  Have a good evening, Ms. Smoak.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diggle,” she told him, unable to stop smiling.  Feeling so much more relaxed and ready for this--as much as she could be--with going to one of her favorite places in Starling City.

Stepping into the restaurant, Felicity breathed in the scent of frying burgers, French fries, and milkshakes.  Looking around, she spotted Oliver at a booth in the back, clearly attempting to look casual as he scanned the restaurant.  The moment she walked in, his eyes landed on her.  There was a spark of recognition, then confusion as she approached him.

“Sara?” he asked as she drew near.

Trying to keep her nerves at bay, Felicity slid into the booth across from him.  “Not . . . not exactly,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “Please, let me just get this out, and then you can yell all you want.”

Oliver looked confused, which, oh, was a good look on him.  But then, every look was a good one on him.  Pictures didn't do him justice, which was completely unfair because he was so gorgeous and handsome in photos.  But seeing him in person, the way his eyes slightly changed color, the little wrinkles he got when he frowned or smiled, the flash of a dimple she thought she had seen yesterday . . . 

Clasping her hands tighter and desperately fighting to keep her insecurities at bay, Felicity rested her hands in her lap.  “I'm not Sara.  I'm Felicity.  You were right to think something was off,” she said, seeing the realization dawn in his eyes.  And then a mask fell over his face as she kept talking.

It was like flying blind, not knowing what he was thinking or feeling, but Felicity knew she just had to get through this.  “Seeing you walk into the studio, I got nervous.  Really, really nervous.  So I did something stupid.  I asked Sara to pretend to be me, because I thought--I thought she was more the type of person, the type of woman, you'd be interested in.  The kind of woman any man would be interested in.  Which is ironic, since Sara is a lesbian.  But that's not the issue,” Felicity said quickly, not wanting to get off on a tangent.

The waitress appeared and Oliver held up his hand, silently dismissing her but not in a rude way.  That must be something rich people learned in nursery school, Felicity thought nonsensically.

“What is the issue?” Oliver asked, his voice very firm.  But after all the time she had spent listening to him, she thought there was a hint of something else in his voice.  Something that sounded like hope.  Like belief.

“I'm sorry,” she said, unable to look away from his face as she apologized.  “I let my hang-ups get in the way of our first meeting, and we'll never get that back.  But--but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, so we could give this another try.  Because . . . I like you.  And that's really a massive understatement, so I'm hoping you might be able to forgive me.”

“Hang-ups?” Oliver repeated, his eyes drawing together.  She wasn't sure if it was in anger or confusion or something else, and his voice didn't really give her any clues.

She nodded.  “I . . . I had some relationships end badly, and both times, the guy intimated or said things that made me feel . . .”

This was so much harder than she thought it would be.  Twisting her fingers together and keeping her eyes on the table, Felicity spoke softly.  “They both gave the impression that they were with me for my mind, not for my looks.  Afterwards, when I was single, I'd go out with my friends, and men would flock to them, and I'd just be sitting at the end of the bar, sipping my drink and wondering when I could go home and take off my uncomfortable shoes.  So after a while . . . I just stopped trying, because men didn't find me attractive. “

Hesitantly, she looked up at Oliver.  “And then you called into my show, and I just--I felt a connection with you.  And talking to you on the phone, it was so old-school.  And easy.  You pretended to be someone else and I pretended I didn’t know.  I pretended that I was in your league and you didn’t know any better.  But then you told me who you were and I had to stop pretending I didn't know who you were.  But--but it was a lot harder to go on pretending that I could be someone you'd want to date, so . . . when you showed up last night . . .”

“You asked Sara to be you,” Oliver said, his voice sounding like it was coming from far away.  It wasn't a matter of volume, but of distance, like he was far away even though he was just across the table from her.

Felicity nodded, because there wasn't anything else to say.  And she didn't know what to do now.  She had asked him to forgive her, she had explained what she had done and why, so now . . . now it was up to Oliver.

And he was so quiet.  So withdrawn, pulled back into himself like he was a turtle.  Was this part of what he had gone through on that island?  Or was this how he had been before, in the rare instances where someone totally upended his world?  Although honestly, that was an exaggeration.  There was no way she was that important to him.  They had only met two months ago!

Yet looking at him right now, she felt like that maybe, just maybe, she had become as important to him as he was to her.

“Do you . . . do you want to ask me any questions?  Is there anything you don't understand?” Felicity finally asked.  Partly to break the awkward, tense silence, but mostly because she wanted him to know that she didn't want to keep secrets from him.  She wanted to try to have something with him.  And that took honesty and trust.  And courage.  He had been brave first, by revealing who he really was.  Now it was her turn.

Oliver was rubbing his thumb against his fingers.  “This . . . this was about you thinking I was out of your league?"

She nodded again, a bit surprised that was his first question.  He seemed to be digesting that, and then he looked at her, his blue eyes very intense.  “I only have one more question,” he said, his voice very quiet, very controlled.  

“Okay,” she said nervously, shifting a little in the booth and pushing her glasses up, her other hand gripping the edge of the table.  

For a long moment, he stared at her.  He flat-out stared at her, his eyes not wavering from hers.  “Do you not have a mirror?”  

What?  

“I--I don’t understand--” Felicity began to say, only for Oliver to cut her off.  

“I said, do you not have a mirror?” he asked, leaning forward.  “Because, Felicity, you are pretty and gorgeous and hot and adorable and beautiful.  To go with being smart and funny and kind and comforting and remarkable and . . . perfect.  And the only way I could understand you not seeing that was if you didn’t have a mirror.”  

All she could do was blink at him.  Because . . . he thought  _ she  _ was beautiful?  

“I--you--”  She was trying to talk, trying to confirm that she wasn’t imagining what she was hearing, but Oliver seemed to think she was gearing up to argue with him.  He grabbed her hands--and there was another tingle of electricity, like when they had touched yesterday.  

“When I walked up and saw Sara, my heart sank.  Because I just knew she didn’t match the picture of you that I had in my head.  Not because of the color of her hair or her eyes or how tall she was--no, she just didn’t seem like you.  And then she introduced me to her friend ‘Sara’ and I looked at you and I was like, ‘That’s who Felicity should be’.  I felt like my old self--like Ollie--because I thought I was still the same dick I used to be,” Oliver said, his voice hushed but the words tumbling out of him.  She had never heard Oliver talk so fast before.  

“But now I know that you’re Felicity, and you thought you were out of my league?  When I’ve done nothing but think you were too good for me from that first phone call?”  Oliver looked at her and let go of her hands.  “That’s why it took me so long to tell you who I was.  But . . . but I knew I had to tell you who I was, because this was . . . you deserved to know the truth, so you could decide what you wanted.  If you wanted me.”  

In computers, there was the ability to overclock your CPU--to make the processing chip that ran your computer go faster than its stated speed, in order to get better performance and faster processing.  Felicity had always felt like her brain was overclocked.  She had the same brain as everyone else, but she had managed to get it to work more efficiently and faster than other people’s, which was why she was so good at what she did.  

But right now, she felt like her brain had been clocked way too fast and she was melting down.  Because . . . Oliver was just as insecure as she was?  

“I don’t have any ground to get mad at you,” Oliver said, sounding tired.  Her eyes snapped to his, taking in his slumped shoulders and sad eyes.  “And I’m not mad.  But I’m wondering if maybe . . . maybe it’s just not the right time for anything more between us.  Maybe we should just keep this as friends.”  He gave her a tight smile, then slid out of the booth.  He took out his wallet and put a twenty-dollar bill and a business card on the table.  “Have dinner on me, and you can call Digg for a ride home whenever you’re ready.”

For a long, eternal moment, Oliver gazed at her.  His face softened and she could see something wistful and bittersweet in his expression.  “I hope I’ll see you around, Felicity,” he said, making her name sound so good, just like he always did.  

To her surprise, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek.  And if she thought his hand touching hers caused sparks, his lips against her skin felt like an explosion.  She could feel him linger for a long moment, and then his hands balled into fists as he drew away.

“Bye,” he said quietly, before turning and walking out of the restaurant.  

As if her body wasn’t under her control anymore, Felicity turned to watch him walk away.  Time felt like it was slowing down, each step away from her lasting a lifetime.  Giving her brain time to reboot.  

Oliver thought it wasn’t the right time for them.  

Oliver thought she was out of his league.

Oliver thought they should stay as friends.  

Logically, her brain agreed with him.  It wasn’t the right time for either of them to start a relationship.  He was still struggling with his experiences of the past five years and she was only starting to realize just how much her self-esteem and confidence had been beaten down by her previous romantic affairs.  If they got involved now, they had too much baggage to make this work.  Not for the long term.  

But watching him get farther and farther away from her, Felicity couldn’t think.  She could only feel.  And her heart was telling her that she was being an idiot.  

Because she was in love with him.  

Felicity had never moved so fast as she did right then.  And since she had no grace whatsoever, she banged into the booth as she tried to run for the exit.  But she didn’t care.  She needed to catch up with Oliver before he left.  

As soon as she hit the street, she looked around frantically, trying to find him.  She spotted his back--no one had a back like his--and cried out.  “Oliver!”  

He didn’t hear her, because he kept walking.  So Felicity started running, her breath coming out in pants and her uncomfortable heels feeling particularly uncomfortable.  But it didn’t matter.  

When she got closer, she tried again.  “Oliver!”

This time, he heard her.  He stopped, his head cocked to one side, and then he turned, slowly.  Just as she came running up to him, so excited and breathless and  _ not  _ used to running that she ran right into him.  

“Felicity?” he said, his hands coming up to grip her arms.  “What’s wrong?”  His eyes searched her face, so worried, so concerned, God, she just wanted to make him smile--

“Nothing--nothing’s wrong.  You said you hoped you’d see me around,” she panted.  “So--here I am.”  

He looked confused again and so utterly kissable that Felicity reached her arms up, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer to her.  “Oliver, I know the timing isn’t great, and we’re both dealing with stuff--but I don’t want to deal with it without you.  Because really, I think we might be perfect for each other.”  

The wrinkle between his brows slowly smoothed, and his lips turned up at the corners, and his eyes were actually  _ sparkling _ .  “Felicity,” he said, just before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.  

Yes, definitely explosions, she thought distractedly when his mouth met hers, and then Felicity closed her eyes and let herself get swept away by the kiss.  By holding Oliver and being held by him, kissing him and being kissed by him.  Feeling desired in a way she had never been before: body and soul.  Because Oliver knew so much about her.  But from the way he was kissing her, from the way his hands were running over her back and shoulders and hair, he wanted her, too.  As much as she wanted him, which was just . . . crazy.  Crazy good.  

She broke their kiss because she just had to giggle.  And then bury her face in his neck and inhale deeply.  “Mmm,” she murmured, feeling like her bones were dissolving and she was turning into a puddle of mush.  

The rumble of Oliver’s laughter in her ears and against her face felt so good.  She tightened her grip on him and lifted her head, gazing up at him.  He gazed back, a soft, warm smile appearing on his face.  

“What?” she asked, her fingers slowly stroking his neck.  

“I know I said you were perfect before . . . but I really think you’re perfect now,” Oliver said softly.  One of his hands drifted up from her back, rounding over her shoulder to cup her face.  His thumb slowly dragged over her bottom lip, making all the warmth concentrate in her core.  

“Oliver?” she asked, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb.  

His eyes sparked at her action, then he replied in a low, deep voice, “Yeah?”  

“I know we don’t want to rush this too much.  We should go slow,” she said, working very hard to keep her thoughts in order when he was looking at her like  _ that  _ and his thumb kept moving against her lips.  “I think we should go have dinner together . . . and then tonight, you get shirtless and call me, and we can balance things out again.”  

It was really, really,  _ really  _ gratifying to see how Oliver visibly swallowed, how his eyes got soft and dreamy like he was remembering something really good, to feel how his hand tightened on her hip.  “You--you have the best ideas.”  

“The benefits of kissing a genius,” she smiled up at him.  “Okay?”  

“The benefits of dating a genius,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against hers before stealing another kiss.  A long, slow, deep kiss, one that almost made Felicity reconsider doing that balancing in person instead of over the phone.  But somehow she stayed strong enough to pull back from him--maybe because her brain had finally realized what Oliver had said.  

“Dating?”  

Oliver grinned at her, impishly, with dancing eyes and dimples and God, if she had first met him in person she would have never gotten to know him.  “Yes, Felicity, dating.  That’s what we’re doing.”  He kissed her temple and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “I’m no genius, but I’m smart enough to hold on to something good when I find it.”  His tone was lighthearted, but there was an undercurrent that spoke to loss and heartache and sadness.  Things he must have experienced during those five years.  

Years that she hoped he might talk to her about, someday.  Not right away; she understood it would take him time to be ready.  And he might not ever be ready.  But she would be there for him whenever he was.  Just like she already knew he would be there for her for anything and everything.  

So she moved in against his side, her arm sliding around his waist, as they walked towards Big Belly.  And Felicity felt his warmth, felt how his hand stroked her shoulder as they walked, and she felt happiness like she hadn’t felt in--well, maybe ever.  

And it all began with his voice and her voice, letting them fall for each other without their insecurities getting in the way.  Whether it was chance or fate that allowed for the start of their story, Felicity knew this was only the beginning.  There were still many more chapters to come, and she couldn’t wait to get started.

End, Chapter 3


	4. Written in Our Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end. I have been so honored by the reaction to this story; the number of touching comments I’ve received have been truly gratifying. I’m really glad that readers have enjoyed this story, not just simply for the fun romance, but because of seeing Felicity struggle with an issue that so many women have worked to address. I hope y’all enjoy the conclusion--and just in time for Valentine’s Day!
> 
> Many thanks, once again, to andcreation and acheaptrickandacheesyoneline for their editing help, and to bigdeesmallworld for the beautiful graphic she made for the fic. And to melsanfo for an amazing prompt.

****_ All our souls are written in our eyes.  
_ Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

Felicity lifted the match and blew it out, the last candle lit.  Her apartment looked different with the candle light softening the bright colors and clean lines of her furniture and walls.  The frankly ridiculous and beautiful flower arrangement Oliver had sent her this morning--roses and Gerbera daisies and lilies and several other flowers, all in shades of red and pink--was center stage on her coffee table, the flowers’ fragrance mixing with the vanilla-scented candles into a pleasing perfume.  It added to the mood she was trying to create.

Because it was Valentine’s Day and she was going to seduce her boyfriend.  

If she had known, when she had advocated them moving slowly with their relationship, they would have gone  _ this  _ slowly, Felicity might have chosen her words more carefully.  Because while they had kept most of the tension at bay with their sexytimes via phone and many enthusiastic in-person make-out sessions, when things became more heated--rounded second and heading for third, to use the common metaphor--Oliver would pull back.  

Well, okay, not always Oliver only.  There had been a few times when her own insecurities had flared up, times when she had stopped because it hadn’t felt right.  

But it was Valentine’s Day.  They had been together a month.  And hot and heavy make-outs and phone sex, as amazing as it was with Oliver and his panty-dropping voice and very talented hands, just weren’t cutting it anymore.  

Smiling to herself, Felicity went to the kitchen to uncork the wine.  Oliver was bringing takeout: Chinese food, which would be just as good reheated.  That was the reason she had picked it when he had asked what she wanted to have for dinner as part of their Valentine’s night in.

Candles, flowers, wine, and lingerie.  She had left nothing to chance tonight.  Although the lingerie was hidden at the moment, so Oliver wouldn’t feel like she was attacking him the moment he walked in the door.  Because right now, she was wearing yoga pants and her beloved, battered MIT hoodie.  A look she happened to know Oliver loved, since he never failed to kiss her senseless and unzip her hoodie whenever she wore it.  Well, tonight he would find a sexy little pink and black bra and panty set when he got her out of her clothes.  

She couldn’t wait.  Which said something about how far she had come, how much being with Oliver and having someone she could be completely honest with had made a difference in her life.  

Not that she couldn’t be honest with her friends, but there were times when she just didn’t want to be that vulnerable to Caitlin and Iris and Sara.  None of them had struggled like she had, and while she knew they were incredibly supportive of her--more encouraging than she deserved--there was something about opening up to Oliver and getting his different perspective.  He didn’t coddle her, but he had a different way of pulling her out of her funks and mopey times.  But no matter how small and petty she could be sometimes, he would at least understand.  And even if he didn’t understand . . . he loved her.   

And she loved him back.  She really loved him, in a way she had never imagined was possible.  Especially not after Cooper and Ray.  Which was why she wanted tonight to go perfectly.  To be a night they would remember for the rest of their lives, given that their first meeting had not exactly been her most shining moment.  It wasn’t a story they would be able to tell their grandchildren.  

Which was another way she knew her life had changed.  Imagining having children with Oliver, children who would eventually have their own children--that was a big step, but it didn’t feel scary to her.  Because . . . Oliver was it for her.  She knew that in her bones.  And tonight, she was ready to be his, just like she wanted him to be hers.

A jingle of keys made Felicity hurry towards the door.  She smiled brightly at Oliver as he stepped into her apartment, carrying bags of food and looking utterly edible.  “Hi.  Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.  

She fisted her hands in his sweater, holding on to him as she drew out the kiss.  Oliver, being very smart, stayed in place, the only thing moving his lips against hers.  “Mmmm,” he murmured against her lips.  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”  

Letting herself lower her feet to the floor, Felicity kept her hands on his chest as she smiled at him.  “I’m glad you’re here.”  

Oliver’s smile was soft and warm and so full of love, she felt her confidence grow by leaps and bounds.  “I’m glad I’m here, too,” he said, brushing his nose against hers.  “I’m also starving.  I had to skip lunch today.”  

“Why’d you do that?” she asked curiously.  “I thought today was an easy day at the club for you . . .”

“It was supposed to be, but the liquor delivery was all screwed up, and then our accountant called and needed to meet with Tommy and me about our taxes, and then my mother got all huffy with me,” Oliver said, letting his head drop forward so his forehead rested against hers.  “With all that, lunch came and went.  By the time I realized that, it was nearly time for me to leave.” 

Felicity slid her arms around his waist, gently stroking his lower back.  “The hard life of club owner and Starling City scion Oliver Queen,” she said, teasing him a little.  And feeling a little disappointed, because she wouldn’t make him wait for dinner when he had to skip lunch.  But she could wait, so she pecked his lips and stepped back, taking the bags from his hand.  “Why don’t you go relax and I’ll get the food ready?”

“How about I take care of the food and you handle the wine?” he asked, lifting one of the bags out of her hand.  

Chuckling, Felicity followed him into the kitchen.  “You know, I’m not great in the kitchen, but I’m an expert at takeout.”  

“I know, but asking anyone to carry plates of food and glasses of wine, all at the same time . . . well, I don’t want to spend Valentine’s Day cleaning up spilled food or broken glass,” Oliver said, moving around her kitchen to gather plates, chopsticks and silverware.  

As she watched him, Felicity felt her heart swell in her chest.  This was everything she had ever wanted . . . and she had thought she would never have this.  Because she had let her fears stand in the way of happiness.

No more.  Starting tonight.  

Stepping into the kitchen, Felicity poured the wine and carried the glasses into the living room.  She curled up on the couch, sipping her wine and waiting for Oliver.  

When he walked into the room, she saw the way he paused, mid-step, as he took in the room.  Then he looked at her and smiled, ducking his head a little.  “So you liked the flowers.”  

“I loved the flowers,” Felicity said, smiling up at him as she took her plate from him.  “Even though you totally went overboard.”  

“Nope.  This was a perfectly reasonable display of my feelings for you,” Oliver said, grinning as he sat down.

“You do realize that if you ever screw up, you will have to fill this place with flowers?” Felicity asked, breaking apart her chopsticks and rubbing them together.  

Oliver tilted his head to one side, then grinned wider.  “It’d be worth it if you forgave me.  But I’d hate for you to be made at me.  A lot.  So that’s another reason to not screw up, besides having to buy out a florist,” he said, leaning over and stealing a kiss before he started preparing his own chopsticks.

God, how was he so perfect?  Such an amazing boyfriend?  And how had she not attacked him sooner?  

Oh, right.  Because he was the most handsome man she had ever seen and when he smiled at her, her knees went weak and she still couldn’t believe she got to kiss him whenever she wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity shifted a little so she was leaning against his side, with her legs tucked up underneath her, and started eating.  Focusing more on the anticipation than the nerves.  Or at least trying to do so.  

“How was your day?” Oliver asked, gently nudging her shoulder a little.  

“Oh, it was fine,” she told him, beginning to share a few details about her day and what she was working on.  The kind of sharing she hadn’t realized was nonexistent in her life before Oliver.  Because neither of her previous boyfriends wanted to hear the little nothing aspects of her day.  

They ate their dinners while talking.  Once they were done, Oliver draped his arm over her shoulders as they sipped their wine, quiet falling between them.

Felicity reached up and took his hand, rubbing her thumb against his fingers.  “Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he replied, looking down at her.  

“I have something to ask you,” she said, letting go of his hand and then shifting so his arm dropped off her shoulders and came to rest against her back by her waist.  

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over her face.  

When she licked her lips, his eyes dropped to her mouth and she smiled a little.  The way Oliver reacted to the slightest thing she did . . . it was good for a girl with her issues.  

“Would you mind if I took off my sweatshirt?  I’m a little warm . . .”  

Oliver’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.  “I don’t mind--of course not.  But why are you asking me?”  

“You’ll see,” she said, somewhat under her breath as she lifted herself up on her knees, facing Oliver.  She drew the zipper down on her hoodie, her eyes lowered.  But then she realized that she wanted to see Oliver’s face when he saw what she was wearing.  

Summoning up all her courage, Felicity lifted her head and looked into his eyes as she slid her hoodie off, letting it fall behind her onto the floor.  Leaving her in her yoga pants and the fancy new bra, one that lifted and cupped her breasts just right, making her feel sexy and attractive and beautiful.  

Although it was nothing compared to how Oliver was looking at her right now.  Like she was utterly desirable, everything he wanted, and a dream he never thought he would have, all wrapped up in her, Felicity Smoak.

“Felicity,” he breathed out, staring at her.  His eyes roamed over her breasts and she bit her lip as she felt her nipples pebble just under the weight of his gaze.  Then he looked up at her face.  “You’re sure?”

She quirked her eyebrow at him.  “I went lingerie shopping.  In an actual store, Oliver.  That’s how sure I am.”  

That made him grin at her, like a mischievous boy, making her stomach flip.  “You’re sure,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her in towards him.  

“Mmm-hmmm,” Felicity said, letting her hand run through his hair.  “In case you were hesitating lately because you didn’t know if I was ready or not.  I am.”  She paused, letting her nails lightly scratch against his scalp in the way he liked.  “Are you?  Ready, I mean?  Because if you’re not, we can--”

“Felicity,” he said, kissing her slowly.  So slowly and tenderly and deeply, she felt like her body was melting.  Her hand tightened in his hair, especially when his lips began kissing a trail from her mouth towards her breasts.  

“I never wanted to push you,” he said, glancing up at her between kisses.  “And being with you . . . having you in my life . . . you make me happy.”  

After everything he had experienced, even though she knew only a few scattered details, Felicity understood how big an admission that was for Oliver.  He was driven by his guilt, by his promise to his father, to protect and save Starling City.  So the fact that in spite of being the vigilante--something he had confessed to her at the end of their third date--he was willing to have something for himself, willing to be happy . . . it made her realize that she had been as good for him as he had been for her.  

And it made her even more certain that tonight was the right night for them to make love.  

“Me, too.  You make me so happy, Oliver,” she told him softly, wrapping both of her arms around his neck.  “I want to give you everything.”  

He swallowed, then nodded.  “I--I want to give you everything, too.”  

Smiling, she dropped her head to kiss him softly.  Against his lips, she muttered, “Then take me to bed.”  

XXX

There was something to be said for having a muscled god as a boyfriend.  He could carry you to your bedroom like you weighed as much as a feather, kissing you the whole time, and he didn’t have to stop to readjust his grip or breathe.  

Seeing his strength in action--knowing how hard he worked for it--having him use it for her benefit--Felicity felt the wetness pool between her legs, felt her nipples become rock-hard, felt her skin heat up and grow flushed.  

“Oliver,” she moaned as he kissed along her jaw.  

“Yeah?” he asked, taking her earlobe between his teeth and nipping at it gently.  She gasped, breathing hard, and he took advantage of her need to pull some oxygen into her lungs to trace the edge of her ear with his tongue.  Then he tugged on her industrial piercing, something no one had ever done, and Felicity felt her vision white out.  

“Ohhhhh,” she said, moaning as she rubbed her breasts against his chest.  Needing some friction, needing  _ something  _ to start relieving the building ache in her core.  

His breath was hot and heavy against her ear.  “You are so beautiful.  You have no idea what I’ve imagined doing to you.  With you,” he whispered.  “I want to do it everything I’ve imagined with you tonight.  I want neither of us to be able to walk tomorrow.”  

Her brain felt like it was on the verge of crashing.  How could she be expected to think, with Oliver’s voice roughly promising so much to her?  All she could do was nod eagerly and grip his shoulders, fisting her hands in his shirt.  “Yes,” she breathed out.  “Take your shirt off.”  

The chuckle that came out of him was too smug, but she didn’t care.  Because the idea that Oliver wanted her this much . . . after knowing him for two months, after dating him for one, she was finally starting to see herself through his eyes.  And it gave her a strength and confidence she never thought she’d possess, to be desired by this man.  

It let her ask for--or even take--what she wanted.  

When Oliver, in a display of showing off, used one hand and the wall to hold her up while he tugged his shirt off with the other, Felicity helped him get it over his head.  And then his shirt was off, and for the first time, she was getting to look at him.  Because while she had gotten her hands on his chest and back a lot--enough for her to be familiar with the scars and healed injuries--he had never let her see him like this.  

And God, he was beautiful.

He was breathing hard, his chest moving up and down, and Felicity dreamily let her hands settle on his pecs.  Touching him made her feel giddy.  She pressed her hands harder against him, spreading her fingers wide, and started stroking his muscles.  

“You are amazing,” she told him, glancing up at him before returning her attention to his chest.  Watching her hands move over him, tightening her legs around his waist and drawing her center closer to the heat of his body.  “I’ve wanted to kiss you all over for weeks.”  

“What--”  Oliver’s voice broke and he cleared his throat.  “What’s stopping you?”  

Giggling softly, she looked at him.  “The position we’re in right now doesn’t really work for that.  It’d be a lot better if you were on the bed and I was straddling you.”  

So fast that she let out a yelp and clutched at him, Oliver spun them around and got them to her bed.  He smirked up at her when he was stretched out beneath her.  “There you go.”  

“Oh, for that, I’m gonna take you  _ right  _ to the edge, Mr. Queen,” she promised, bracing herself on her hands, one on either side of his head.  She saw his eyes go wide and she smirked right back at him before she lowered her head.

When her lips made contact with his shoulder, Oliver sucked in a breath.  Felicity closed her eyes, letting herself focus on this.  On the salty taste of his skin, the warmth that poured off him, the combination of textures under her mouth from scars and hair and flesh.  She pressed open-mouthed kisses over his shoulders, letting her tongue slowly drag along his collarbones from one side to the other.  When she started to lick him, his hands went to her hips and gripped her tightly, like he was scared she would stop and get up.  

There was no way she was stopping, though.    

She let her hands lightly stroke his sides, smoothing up and down his ribs, as she kept kissing and licking.  Slowly, as she grew more confident, more curious, she started sucking, scraping her teeth, swirling her tongue against him.  And with each new addition, Oliver responded.  Soft, breathy moans, a jerk of his hips, his hands digging into her hips . . . and her name.  He kept saying her name, making it sound like the sexiest thing in the world.  

No--scratch that.  The groan he let out when she pressed a light kiss to the tattoo on his left pec?   _ That  _ was the sexiest thing in the world.  

And she needed more of him.  

Unfortunately, Oliver had other ideas.  She had just started to kiss down his sternum, eager to explore all those amazing ridges of his abs and then those very intriguing creases that vanished under the waistband of his jeans, when Oliver lifted his hands from her hips and took her elbows.  “Felicity--Felicity, I need to touch you.”  

“Huh?” she asked, looking up at him.  His face was flushed and he was breathing hard, and the idea of him touching her . . . suddenly she needed that, too.  

Slowly, she pushed herself up, moving so that she was straddling him higher, over his abs.  She took a deep breath and nodded to him. 

Oliver surged up, his arms wrapping around her, all dense with muscles--she would need to kiss every square inch of his arms later, she should remember that--and he kissed her hungrily.  His tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking against the roof of her mouth in the way she liked.  She felt his hands stroke her shoulders and upper back, marveling at how much of her he could cover with his big hands.  

And then those hands of his seemed like they were everywhere, as he kept kissing her and began to touch her.  Touching her in a way he never had before: utterly possessive, thoroughly exploring.  

“Felicity,” he said against her lips, “you drive me so crazy.  Tell me what you want.”  

“You, inside me,” she said without thinking.  Feeling him freeze against her, which made Felicity wince.  “Um . . .”  

“No, don’t take it back,” Oliver said, moving one of his hands to the waistband of her yoga pants, pushing them down a little.  “What part of me do you want inside you?”  

He was so maddeningly infuriating when he was unbearably sexy like this.  “Oliver,” she whined when he circled her belly button with a finger and then dipped just his fingertip inside.  “You know what I want.”  She looked at him, lifting her chin a little.  “Give it to me.”  

Using the hand that hadn’t been fondling her belly button, Oliver flipped them over.  The air went out of her with a whoosh as his weight partially settled on top of her, then she moaned.  “Oliver . . .”

“Put your hands over your head.  Hold on to the headboard,” Oliver whispered darkly in her ear.  He leaned up and yanked her yoga pants off, then unfastened his jeans.  

“Condom.  In the drawer,” Felicity panted, nodding her head towards the table beside her bed.  

Oliver grinned and kissed her quickly.  “Thanks.”  He reached over her and snagged the box she had put there this afternoon, ripping it open and pulling out a condom before dropping the box on the bed.  

She looked at the box, then back at him.  “You were serious about the no-walking thing.”  

“I’m making love with you for the first time.  I’m very serious about that, Felicity,” Oliver said, sliding his jeans off and letting her see how his boxer-briefs outlined just how serious he was. 

Her eyes widened, because just the outline of him was enough to tell her tonight was going to be . . . Felicity gripped the spindles of her headboard even tighter as she took a deep breath, noticing how Oliver’s eyes went to her heaving breasts.  And how his cock most definitely twitched.  

“Stop--stop dawdling,” she told him, wiggling a little on the bed and pressing her thighs together.  

Huffing out one of those silent laughs that she kind of loved, Oliver grinned at her.  And then, as if words weren’t necessary, he pushed off his boxer-briefs and knelt on the end of her bed, casually ripping open the condom packet.  

“Fuck,” she whispered.  Because . . . he was so  _ big _ .  His cock was thick, the head flared and wet with precum, and she knew she was soaking her panties just from looking at him.  

He paused and looked at her, silently asking if she was okay.  Felicity nodded quickly and meant it.  She was okay.  She wanted him--wanted this.  No, it was more than want--it was need.  There was an ache low in her belly, a clenching emptiness, that needed to be filled.  

“Oliver,” she said, meeting his eyes as he started to crawl towards her.  

Smiling at her, he whispered, “Felicity,” as he came closer to her.  He gently eased her legs apart and she moaned.  

“Just--just get those off and get inside me,” she told him.  

“Nope, I want you to keep them on,” Oliver said, his fingers gently pushing aside the sodden crotch of her panties.  

She groaned loudly, arching her back.  Partly because it was all too much, partly to make him do what she told him.  

With deliberate movements, Oliver took his condom-covered cock and pressed the head against her entrance.  He looked up at her as he teased her, dragging his tip through her moisture.  “You’re so wet,” he said.  “Wet for me.”  

“I know!  Oliver, I  _ need  _ you--”  

His slow easing into her made Felicity stop talking.  He moved inch by inch, giving her time to adjust, until he was fully inside her.  

“Open your eyes, Felicity.”  

What?  Oh.  She had closed her eyes without realizing it.  Taking a breath, Felicity pried open her lids and looked up at Oliver.  And she was so glad she did, because he was so beautiful right now.  His cock was buried inside her, soothing that empty feeling, yet she could already feel the urge for him to move.  Her muscles fluttered around him and he swallowed.  His hands slid up her arms and wrapped around her hands on the headboard.  He leaned in, kissing her so sweetly.  And then, without any further delay, he drew his hips back and thrust into her hard.  

“Oh, God,” she groaned, feeling like she could come just from that.  

Oliver let out a groan of his own.  “Felicity.”  He drew nearly all the way out and then slammed into her, making her understand why he had told her to hold on to the headboard.  

This shouldn’t be working for her.  Normally, she needed her clit to be worked, some nipple play, more than this to be on the verge of climax.  But something about the way Oliver looked at her, something about the way his cock filled her . . . it was enough.  Maybe it was keeping her sexy underwear on.  Maybe it was the power of what existed between them.  Felicity didn’t know and didn’t have the brainpower to figure it out.  Not with chasing an orgasm she knew was going to be spectacular.  

It didn’t take long--which was another only-with-Oliver element, she suspected--for her to feel on the edge.  “Oliver, I’m so close--” she said, her legs wrapping around his hips.  

“I know--I know, I can feel it, Felicity, yes . . .” he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers.  

“Oh--oh--oh,” she panted, rolling her hips as Oliver entered her on his next thrust.  And that let his cock rub against her clit in just the most perfect way, and--

A white-hot wave of pleasure started in her center and then swept through her whole body.  She jerked and pulsed against Oliver, her inner muscles clamping down around him, making him gasp and groan.  But she was only distantly aware of that, because oh, God, she felt so good, she was coming so hard, she loved Oliver so much, she never wanted this to stop . . . 

And then Oliver was coming, too, trembling and shaking against her, and she somehow managed to get one hand free.  With strength she didn’t know she had after a climax like that, she rested her hand on his head and held him as he finished.  He slumped against her and Felicity closed her eyes, unable to stay awake any longer.  

It was so exhausting, becoming part of someone for the first time ever.  She just needed a little nap and then she would bask in the afterglow.  With Oliver.  There would be so much basking . . . 

XXX

Felicity woke up to find Oliver taking off her bra.  

“Huh . . . ?” she murmured as she felt his hands on her back.  

“Shhh.  Just making you more comfortable,” Oliver murmured.  

“Yeah, right,” she told him, her eyes fluttering a little as she tried to push aside the last remnants of sleep.  “I think you wanted to ogle me while I was sleeping.  Which is no fair.”  

He laughed, smiling at her.  There was a lightness in him that she had never seen before.  It was beautiful.  She reached out and stroked the side of his face, letting her thumb brush over the arch of his eyebrow.  

“I love you,” she told him for the first time, after thinking it a million different times since that day in Big Belly.  The words came out simply, gently.  Because they needed to be said.  

“I love you,” he replied, just as easily.  Felicity smiled up at him and moved her hand to the back of his head, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss.  

His body pressed down against her, just heavy enough to feel good, and she could feel his cock hardening against her as they kept kissing.  

“Mmmm . . . seems like you’re ready to tell me another one of those ways you imagined having me,” Felicity said, running a hand down his side and then inching her fingers along the crease of his hip.  She looked into his eyes as she wrapped her hand around him, taking in how warm and heavy he was against her palm.  

Oliver let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering.  He stuttered a little as he spoke.  “I--you were just talking about fair--if you want to--it should be your turn.”  

“Yay, my turn,” she said, experimentally moving her hand up and down his length.  “It’s so hard to choose, though.”  

“Tell me about it,” he muttered as he kissed her neck.  

Laughing softly, Felicity tilted her head back, giving him more room even as she kept up her gentle strokes of his cock.  “Some of them might have to wait.  Like blindfolding you and describing in excruciating detail the perfection of your body, how you make me feel, how lucky I am . . . I mean, I don’t have any blindfolds.  And I need to study you more before I can have all the details.”  

His cock jumped in her hand and she smiled.  “Your turn.  Tell me one of your ideas.”  

“I want to lay you on the island in your kitchen and eat you out,” Oliver said, gasping a little as her hand clutched tighter around him.  “I want you to ride me, I want to watch your breasts bounce as you use me to come.  I want you to blow me wearing the brightest lipstick you own.  Actually, that last one, I kinda want you to do that several times, since you have so many bright lipsticks . . .”  

“Oliver,” she said, drawing out his name and pinning him with a mock glare.  “You are not helping me choose.”    

“Sorry,” he said, a wide grin on his face and his eyes dancing, looking completely not sorry.  

She let go of him, pushing herself up and feeling her muscles shake a little.  She was already well on her way to the ‘not being able to walk’ part of tonight, she thought with flushed cheeks.  But she wanted to make sure she wasn’t the only one feeling like that.  

Climbing off the bed, she barely escaped Oliver’s hands.  “Where are you going?” he asked, pouting a little and looking so very kissable.  

“Just wait,” she told him over her shoulder as she walked towards her bathroom, letting her hips sway a little.  

He let out a gratifying groan and Felicity grinned.  Once she was in the bathroom, she rummaged through her makeup drawer, picking a bright pink lipstick Oliver had told her he liked.  

As she applied the color to her lips, Felicity looked at herself in the mirror.  Taking in her tousled bedhead, the way her skin was pinkened in places with beard burn and oncoming hickeys, the lazy smile on her lips, the contentment and confidence in her eyes.  

That day at Big Belly, Oliver had asked her if she didn’t have a mirror.  Ever since they had gotten together, Felicity had made a point of taking advantage of moments like this to really look at herself.  Of course she had used mirrors before, to check if her mascara was flaking or her hair was frizzy, but actually just looking at herself?  Felicity had never done that until the last month.  And now, she could gaze at herself in a mirror and didn’t feel shy or uncertain.  When she looked at her reflection, she saw a woman who was becoming stronger, more confident, more powerful.  A woman who didn’t worry too often about not being worthy of the man she loved and who loved her back.  

Lately, those worries about being enough hadn’t occurred to her often.  And it was so amazing, to let go of those fears and doubts, and be rewarded for all that hard work with confidence--and Oliver.  

_ Speaking of the handsome, wonderful Mr. Queen _ , she thought to herself with a smile as Oliver came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.  “You spoiled your surprise,” Felicity told him, running her hands over his arms.  

“I missed you,” he said, his voice rumbling against her.  He gazed at her eyes in the mirror, smiling softly.  

“You big sap,” she said, leaning her head back against his chest.  

He nodded, his lips lightly touching the spot on her jaw just under her earlobe.  “Yeah, I know,” he said simply.  “I let my emotions out now, instead of trying to bury them.  Thanks to you.”  

“And thanks to you . . . I feel like the Felicity I’m supposed to be,” she said, her voice quiet and confident.  

The way his eyes grew warm at her words, the way his lips quirked up in a small smile, the way his arms tightened a little around her . . . it told her everything about how Oliver believed her words.  And believed in her.  

Turning in his arms, Felicity looked up at him.  “I believe you requested a blow job.”  She smacked her lips, then pursed them, showing off the lipstick.  

Oliver laughed-- _ really _ laughed--his head falling back and his whole body shaking.  “I did.  You are remarkable, Felicity Smoak.  

“Thank you for remarking on it,” she said as she sank down onto her knees.  

XXX

It was mid-morning before Felicity looked at a clock and realized how late it was.  “Thank God it’s Saturday,” she said, letting her head fall back against the pillow.  “I’d be in so much trouble otherwise, not calling out from work.”  

“If they fired you, I’d stop them,” Oliver mumbled from beside her, his face smushed into his own pillow.  “Or give you start-up money for your own company.”  

“You would?” Felicity asked him in surprise, turning to look at him.  

He opened one eye and nodded.  “Of course.  Best use of my money ever.”  

“I don’t know about  _ that _ , but thank you,” Felicity said, kissing his temple since his lips were pressing against the pillow.  

Stretching a little, Felicity blinked and picked up her glasses.  “Mmm.  I’m gonna go make coffee.  You want anything?”  

Oliver shook his head and burrowed into the pillow a bit more.  It made her grin.  Oliver Queen, slugabed.  She would have thought he’d be jumping out of bed at five to do pushups and sit-ups and then go run ten miles.  

_ He’s done plenty of cardio since last night _ .  

With a giggle at that thought, Felicity swung her legs over the bed, feeling a few little aches that spoke to how she had spent the last sixteen hours.  But when she actually attempted to stand, she let out a deep groan.  

“Huh, what?” Oliver said, jerking into an upright position.  Then he let out a groan of his own, his hand going to his back.  

“Oh my God,” she said, looking at Oliver.  “We--we actually fucked so hard and so much, my legs  _ really  _ don’t work!”  

Oliver blinked, and then let out a laugh and fell back on the bed.  “You--I can’t believe you remembered that,” he said between laughs.  

“You were using your sexy voice!  Of course I remembered,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.  “I didn’t think it was possible, though.”  

“I didn’t, either,” he said, tucking an arm behind his head and smirking a little.  “Come back to bed and we’ll get coffee delivered.”  

“I’m sorry, what service will actually deliver it to us in bed?” she snarked, even as she crawled back into bed to curl up against him.  

Amused, she watched him open his mouth and then close it.  “Okay, you’ve got a point,” he conceded.  “I wonder if there’s someone we could call and ask . . .”  

“To deliver us coffee in bed?  While we’re naked?  I have no friends like that,” Felicity said.  “And if you have someone who’d do that for you, I’m officially concerned.”  

He rolled his eyes at her.  “Tommy would do it, if he wasn’t off in Central City with Laurel.”  Then Oliver snapped his fingers.  “You do have a friend who’d bring us coffee in bed.  Sara.”  

“No way.  I’d never hear the end of it from her,” Felicity argued.  “Just gimme a few minutes and I’ll try walking again.”  

“Okay,” Oliver said, his hands beginning to gently rub her shoulders.  Felicity let out a little coo of satisfaction and closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle massage.  But then his hands stopped moving and Felicity opened one eye. 

“Why’d you stop?” she asked him.

A slow, shit-eating grin spread across Oliver’s face.  “When my muscles are sore, I work through the soreness.”  

“Oh, do you?” she countered, smiling as he rolled her onto her back.

“It’s a proven technique, Ms. Smoak,” he informed her, nuzzling his nose against hers.  “You can Google it later.”  

Felicity ran her hands over his arms.  “You do it gently though, right?” she asked him, biting on her lower lip.  

He had been moving in to kiss her, but at her words, he stopped.  He gazed at her for a long moment, then reached up and brushed some hair away from her forehead before pressing a soft kiss there.  “How about I get up and make the coffee?” 

Not for the first time, Felicity contemplated just how lucky she was for having Oliver in her life.  For listening to her friends when they had warned her that she was letting life pass her by, for finding the courage to show Oliver who she really was.  

Because with her friends and Oliver and a little bit of luck, Felicity had a life that was the stuff of dreams.  

“How about we help each other to the kitchen and we make the coffee together?” she asked, stroking his shoulders.  

“Even better,” he said, kissing her lightly, sweetly, and almost chastely on her lips.  

Together, they helped each other get out of bed, leaning on the other in order to shake loose their stiffness and begin moving.  With Oliver’s encouraging smiles, Felicity felt like she could do anything.

So perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that Oliver’s fantasy about her on the kitchen island came true that morning, and on several other mornings, afternoons and evenings throughout their lives together.  

End.  


End file.
